Konstantyn Chronicles: Well Oriented Wanderer
by Mortuis1
Summary: Herr Professor Pavel Konstantyn accepts Harry Potter as his apprentice and heir. Harry adapts to a new family, and finds new magical abilities emerging. He navigates Draco, the Basilisk, Ghosts, Older brother John and Blood Magic in new ways. A/U, Canon timeline altered, but every effort made to keep characters canon compliant. Warning: Parental consensual cp, no slash. Vol. II, KC
1. Introduction - Regroup and Rally

**A/N Author's Note:** _Welcome to the Second Volume of Konstantyn Chronicles. This story picks up almost directly after the close of Not All Gold Glitters, so if you've not already read that, this may be a bit confusing. However, this story should stand pretty well on its own, given that Harry has apprenticed to an interesting Master Mage/Professor, and is learning about life in a loving family. Please enjoy. Feel free to review and/or send comments, questions, or suggestions. Grace to you, Gentle Reader! - Mort_

* * *

 **Regroup and Rally**

Hermione yawned as she worked on her history homework on Thursday, making her flash cards for History of Magic, an extra credit assignment. After the third yawn, Pavel laughed, working on his paperwork alongside her, saying, "Is the task that boring, or are you just that tired, little one?"

She smiled, "I'm sorry, Professor. No, it's not boring. I'm just feeling sleepy today. Maybe it's just that this is so comfortable."

The Professor laid the back of his hand on her forehead, in that universal gesture of wellness checking, and was amazed that she showed no signs of fever, but did exude unusual waves of fatigue. He affirmed no fever, and seemed to return to his work. But he cast one of his general "status check nets" out, reading that all the children were well... but got a second hit on Hermione, indicating that she was in two different locations. She seemed to be here, sitting with them, at the same time that he read her to be in the Library downstairs as well. Unsure what to make of this, he excused himself from the table, saying he'd be right back.

He walked into his Study and blinked silently to the Library. Casting a Disillusionment Charm over himself, he stealthily walked in and shifted carefully along the outside stacks where he could observe all the tables and carrels. There she was, big as life, working on her notes for the presentation of Polyjuice Potion for the Seventh Years. Pavel's expression grew grim as he noted her pallor and apparent fatigue here as well. Extending his magesight in the arcanum of Time, he figured it out. She was using a Time-Turner, doubling her apparent "productivity", but at the cost of her energy, both physical and magical. Silently, he blinked back to his Study, emerging as if nothing had happened, and sitting down again to carry on with his work.

At 5:00, John came in from finishing with his day and Pavel looked up at the time, declaring "play time" for those who wanted to break from their labors. The children all closed their books and put their things away as Pavel picked up his work and took it into the study. Returning to the study door, he asked, "Hermione, may I see you in here a moment, please?" interrupting her in another yawn, noting the bewildered and somewhat concerned faces of both Ron and Harry, as Hermione entered and the door closed behind her.

"Please sit down and relax," Pavel invited, as he removed his academic garb, and changed into his lounging robe. Quietly he sat, looking at her with a friendly but inquiring glance, as he asked, "Is there anything you vant to tell me?"

"No, sir. Not really," she responded, biting her lower lip a bit.

"Well, I have a bit of an 'uncle concern', my niece. And as far as I'm concerned, you are in no trouble at all. All right?" Hermione nodded. "But I am a Mage of Time arcanum, a Time mage, and you, young lady, are showing time anomalies. Um... along with which, I just left you in the Library downstairs, as you sat at our table studying. Care to explain that for me?" he asked in a very gentle, non-threatening voice.

"Um, Professor?" she began, in a very tentative voice... "May I just say I'd rather not answer that? May I just keep that private?"

"Yes, that's a perfectly acceptable answer, and yes, you have the right to your privacy. I will not pry, or violate your privacy by magic. However, I have concerns that I want to share with you, and if the situation continues and does not resolve itself somehow, I shall no doubt become more assertive in my investigation.

"You are very tired, and you are pale. I want John to check on you and see if you are well. Further, my own senses tell me you are deeply fatigued in your magical core. That is not healthy. It's not healthy for any witch or wizard, but particularly not for one of your age still developing their abilities. I know you are meddling with time in some way, and I can absolutely affirm that terrible things can happen to those who are careless in such meddling.

"Right now, as things stand, something is wrong. I do not know what, or how. But I know that something is harming you, and you have a perfect right not to disclose the matter to me. However, that will then free me to investigate, on my own, what the matter is. At this moment you have a choice, you can let Ivan have a look at you right now, or you can go to Madame Pomfrey for a checkup. Either choice is fine, you're not in trouble for anything. Which do you prefer?"

"I'd rather not go to Madame Pomfrey, sir. John can check on me," she surrendered.

"All right," Pavel said, as he got up and left the Study. "Ivan?" he addressed John who was playing chess with Ron at the moment. "May I interrupt you to do a quick checkup on Hermione? She's a bit tired, and may have a headache," he addressed John, and turned to Harry. "Shouldn't take a minute, they'll be right back." Pavel poured himself a cup of strong tea, sat relaxing in his favorite chair by the fire, as he pulled down a tome of his favorite poetry.

It couldn't have been five minutes before John and Hermione calmly rejoined the family, and as they exited the Study John asked, "Is the headache better now?" to provide some cover for Hermione.

"Yes, thanks, John," she replied with a relieved smile. Then she went to a comfortable chair and curled up with one of her schoolbooks.

John then sat back down with Ron to finish his game, after which he excused himself to go change and wash up for dinner. _"Papa?" John mind-spoke._

 _"Yes, Ivan," came the reply._

 _"She's all right, overall. But she's exhausted, and she was a bit anemic. I took it upon myself to correct some of that. I gave her some energy, to empower her through the evening until bedtime. I also enhanced her bone marrow and fine tuned her spleen. The anemia should be corrected by morning, but she needs nutritional supplements if she's going to keep going this way."_

 _"Is she ill, Ivan? Is some sickness causing the anemia?"_

 _"No, Papa. Nothing I can find. Everything is working perfectly, but her demand is exceeding her maintenance. She doesn't seem to be showing any symptoms of sleep deprivation mentally or emotionally, but it seems like her body is. Just general exhaustion, overexertion of some type. Do you know what's going on?"_

 _"I believe she is abusing a Time-Turner or other similar artifact; she's 'double dipping'. I found her sitting at a library study table downstairs, at the same time as she was doing homework with us at the dinner table. I could sense some time anomaly about her, and when I told her I'd observed her doppelganger and asked if she wanted to explain herself, she asked to keep it to herself. I've agreed to that as long as I don't find she is being harmed. If I do, I will simply investigate, with all my skills. But I have no problem with her running her own operation, as long as she's not hurt and there's no danger to the school. But I would appreciate it, Ivan, if you can arrange to monitor her condition over time?"_

 _"I can do that, Papa. And if the situation does not improve?"_

 _"Then we will rethink our position."_

* * *

 **Earlier in the Day, Pavel's Classroom:**

Thursday's History of Magic Class continued the pattern of teaching _How to Win at the School Game_ , as Pavel reviewed a technique for memorization of long simple lists. He called the technique "Diminishing Stack", as he explained how to make Flash Cards with the prompt or datum on one side, and the explanation or definition on the other. One then takes this "Deck" of cards, and speaks the prompt out loud, then recites the definition from memory. When finished, the card is flipped over to check for verbatim correctness. If that is successful, the card goes onto a "Done" pile. If there is any error or omission, the correct material is repeated aloud, and the card goes into "Recycle". When finished with the Deck, the Recycle pile is gone through again, as Deck. Each time the Deck is run through, there are fewer and fewer errors to be recycled. When finished, the exercise is finished for the day. This can be repeated as many days as necessary to master the information.

To "sweeten the pot", the Professor offered an Extra Credit offering, giving each student a parchment of names, events, and places, along with the reason for their historical significance, for memorization. While he did not "require" this information be used in essays or examinations, they always improved the possibility for a good grade. He offered a class wide "Challenge", offering 20 house points and a quarterly test grade equivalent of Outstanding, for any and all students who made Flash Cards from this list - about 100 dates and facts in all - and could pass an examination with 100% whether written or oral. Students were welcome to take him up on this challenge any time before the Final Examination.

For the rest of the class, he had students review a battle between Jehoshaphat and the armies of Moab and Ammon at Engedi, and then offered to allow any volunteer to manage the Diorama. The exercise would be held the following Tuesday, and three volunteers could choose teams to represent the combatant armies. The Staff would itself select the best managing volunteer, based on power and clarity of imago sensed by the Staff.

This was unheard of... for a student to manage the Diorama through the Staff... and resulted in heated speculation on who would prevail. It also sparked an unusual degree of willingness for students to study the history of the battle, as recorded and available for research. Pavel thoroughly enjoyed hearing the arguments and speculation among students, as they jostled their way out of the classroom, each claiming they'd 'win the Staff' over one another.

* * *

 **Teatime, Professor Snape's Study:**

"Thank you for joining me for tea, Mr. Malfoy," Snape's languid tones slid through the air, as he poured a cuppa for Draco and handed it to him.

"Thank you for having me, sir. Your invitation was a bit... erm... unexpected," Draco replied, as he sat in the Professor's office parlor area, wondering suspiciously what was behind this invitation. "The last time I was here, the visit was not so... cordial."

"Ah, quite true," Severus smiled with a brief nod, recalling the discipline administered at the time. "That's perhaps part of the reason I've asked you here today."

Draco was even more perplexed, and not at all comforted by such a response.

"No, Draco, you're not here to be punished. In fact, it's rather the opposite," Professor Snape mused, making everything as clear as mud. "Your father and I see eye to eye on many things, and we share a number of confidences and aspirations. That's true. But there are also a number of things that Lucius and I do NOT agree on. Before I go any further, may I be assured of your confidence about this discussion? I want to talk about matters I would prefer remain private, whether from your parents, or anyone else. May I have your word on that?"

"Yes, sir, presuming it's nothing that would compromise my family or its honor."

"A fair condition. Only proper. Indeed, I can agree with that. Now, one of the matters I see differently than your parents is your upbringing, your formation. Some of the values with which you are being raised, some of the attitudes with which you are being conditioned, I feel are inappropriate. They are counterproductive to the development of excellence in wizardry. I also do not agree with the severity with which you are punished, or the fact that your discipline is far more often dependent on the mood of your father, than the actual nature of your misdeeds. I have no objection to the use of a light cane for serious offenses such as lying, cheating, or theft. But strokes should be 'sufficient', not 'draconian', and I find only a very few to be more than sufficient to make my point with lasting clarity."

Draco really didn't know how to respond to any of this, so he just stirred and sipped his tea in silence.

"Let me ask you an odd question, Draco. If you were raising a 12 year old wizard son, would you act as Lucius does?"

"No, sir." Now THERE was a question Draco had thought about long and hard. If HE were Lucius, how would he handle situations, rather than how the old man handled them? "I think I'd be very different."

"How so, Draco?" Snape asked, in a low patient voice.

"Father is only concerned with appearances. He wants everything to go his way, to be in control of everything and everyone. If anything crosses him, he lashes out. It doesn't matter if that's at a house elf, or me, or even Mother, depending on the place and time. He's always maneuvering for advantage, like playing a chess game and adjusting positions on a board. Of course, there's also a lot of fear..." and his voice trailed off.

"Fear? Fear of what, or whom?"

"Fear of... well, it almost seems like... fear of everything. Fear of losing. Fear of losing face, or position, or power. He's always got to be inside everything, like the ministry... or know everything that's going on. Then, of course, there's the fear of... well, you know..."

"Fear of the Dark Lord?" Severus asked.

"Yes. I mean, it's so strange... He talks like his Dark Mark is the greatest thing ever. Like serving the Dark Lord is such a great position to be in... the key to his power and authority... like the fulfillment of everything he's ever wanted. And yet, sometimes, especially when he thinks no one is looking or listening... it's so clear that he's terrified. The Dark Lord, or his relationship with him, is his greatest nightmare and horror. I can't explain it, but I can see it, I can feel it."

"I see," Severus said, just letting the silence settle comfortably between them for quite a while. "And how do you see all that playing out in YOUR future? What do you personally think of these things? How do you feel about the Dark Mark, or the Dark Lord?"

Time ticked past as Draco made no response.

"I assure you, Draco, just as I want this conversation kept strictly between us, so I will honor your confidences as well. I will never repeat this to your father, or in any way that will get back to the Dark Lord."

"Why are you asking me these things, Professor?" Draco's voice was husky. "It's not like anything can be done about it. 'It is what it is', as they say. I'm trapped, just as Father is, as Mother is.

"I don't agree, Draco. I think there's a great deal each of us can do to determine the path our lives take. Circumstances certainly have an impact, forces can influence what options are open to us, but we ourselves make choices of what actions to take, what values we choose, and what alliances we make. Our relationships are far more powerful indicators and determinants of character, than environment and circumstance. I am asking you these things because I'd like to know what you really want. What do you want out of life? What do you want out of adulthood? What do you want of the future?"

Malfoy thought carefully for a moment, then said, "I suppose I want what anybody wants. I want to be happy. I want to continue my family line, raise a family, have a career. I'd like to be respected, significant, powerful, maybe. To be perfectly honest, between just the two of us? I really don't want to be involved at all with the Dark Lord, or any of that. I've seen too much of secrets, torture, Deatheaters, and all that fear. It's like a sinkhole... once you're stuck in it, there's no getting out of it. You know that, maybe better than anyone, right, Severus?"

"That's a fair question, Draco. A fair observation. And you've cut to the heart of this discussion. Once you're in this morass, it is difficult indeed to get out and get clean from it. I think it is fair to say that you are being groomed to enter into the Dark Lord's cadre, and have been from the cradle." Severus watched Draco nod slowly. "Well, I can offer you an alternative, if you are interested. You stand at a crossroads right now, Draco. You can follow the path of your history, and proceed into the shadow of the Dark Lord and your father. Or, you can choose to follow a different path away from those shadows, develop solid character based on merit, worth, and the honor of character rather than of circumstantial status.

"You have stated, wisely, I think... that what you'd like most of the future is 'to be happy'. Are any of those in the Dark Lord's shadow truly what you would call 'happy'? With the possible exception of those we could agree are simply 'mad'," and in this he failed to name, though they both instantly thought of Bella LaStrange, Draco's aunt, "those in the shadow of the Dark Lord are motivated by fear and know little to no joy in their lives. Look around you... here... or out in the community... and ask yourself who can you identify as being 'happy'? That's a rhetorical question, you need not answer.

"Now, if you are happy with where your life is leading, well and good. Go in peace. But if you are not satisfied with that, if you would prefer to set your feet on a path free of that shadow and fear, then I have a proposal for you."

"What might that be, Severus?"

"Do you feel your life would have been more likely to lead in the direction you want, if you had been born my son, rather than Lucius'?"

"What an odd question," Draco chuckled, stirring his tea to consider it. "You're asking, in a way, if I wish you were my father, rather than Lucius..."

"I am, yes," Snape nodded.

Draco's voice grew husky as he stared into his teacup and said, in almost a whisper, "Yes, sir, I do. Almost every day."

Snape's eyes closed in concentration, as slowly he drew and released a very deep breath. "Draco, I have watched you grow up your entire life as my godson. I can tell you truthfully, I would be pleased and privileged, I would be very proud indeed, if I were your father."

Draco struggled with the lump in his throat, and tears that formed in his eyes. These words were touching places so deep in him that he scarcely even admitted that they existed most days. He felt so empty so much of the time... like he had to always keep racing, to keep up, or else something would catch him... something he was afraid would show him that he was utterly worthless. No one in his life ever said they were proud of HIM, for himself. They were only proud of what he could do, what he could accumulate, what he could claim, or where he was from or descended from. If it weren't for his "stuff", he was afraid he was worth nothing at all.

"I can offer you this, Draco. If you want me to function, right here at Hogwarts and beyond as opportunity presents, as your Godfather... if you want me to treat you as a son, and you treat me as a father... then I am open to establishing that relationship with you in a very serious way. If you wish it, I am willing to 'parent' you... raise, train, educate, encourage, correct, celebrate, comfort, advise, discipline... in short, deal with your formation, development, and character. If you choose, if you are willing to honor, heed, relate to me as 'father', then I am willing to honor, heed, and relate to you as 'son'."

Draco's face was a study in contrasts and dismay. His eyes had turned red from resisting the tears that were trying so desperately to come. His nose was running, and his chin threatened to tremble as he fought for self-control. These words were hitting him painfully deep in his heart. He found it hard to breathe as his chest compressed with the power of his emotions. It seemed ridiculous to him. Only a week ago, right here over this very chair, he'd shed not a tear as this same man caned him three solid strokes. He'd been reprimanded, taken his punishment, and left with his head held high and dignity intact. Now here he was, fighting himself not to blub like a baby, reduced to tears by nothing but words... and KIND words at that. Where was his dignity? Where was his pride? What was wrong with him?

Feeling the confusion Draco was struggling with, Severus decided to give him a private moment. "I need to tend a potion for a moment. I'll be right back." He rose, went to his lab table and began pulling down some of the ingredients he would need to prepare for tomorrow's detention. He fussed over the two cauldrons of Polyjuice Potion, and when about 5 minutes had elapsed, returned to his seat with Draco.

"Draco?"

"Yes, sir."

"I know this is a lot to consider and take in all at once. I don't need an answer right now. Let me just clarify my offer, and you can go on your way and consider it. If you wish, I am willing as your Godfather, to parent you as I would my own son. I will engage you as fully here at Hogwarts as though you were fully in my guardianship. This would be vastly different than your current circumstances, as I would actively seek to foster the development of your character, values, and skills, to promote your formation as the wizard I would hope my son to become. This would, no doubt, be a very difficult and trying transition for you. But it would also, I believe, be vastly fulfilling and rewarding as well. Please know, I only offer this because I care for you very much, and have since the day you were born. I would like to see your life and your adolescence offer more paths and choices than my own had.

"Go think about all this, and let me know what you decide. Should you decide this is not what you want to do, there will be no repercussions to declining the offer. No one will ever know of this discussion between us, and I will never bring up the matter again. So... off you go..."

Draco was dismissed, and Snape walked him out. Closing his eyes as he leaned back on the door after shutting it quietly behind the boy, Severus thought, _"Well, now we'll see what happens."_ He found himself wondering if he was really ready for this.

* * *

 _ **A/N** Welcome back, Gentle Reader. The Konstantyn Chronicles proceed as Harry deals with settling in to his new family, getting along in school, and developing new and unexpected abilities through his second year. I hope you enjoy these stories, and take a moment to review. I love ideas and questions. So thank you for coming! Grace to you - Mort_


	2. A Quiet Dinner for Two

**A Quiet Dinner for Two**

Pavel spent his early morning working silently at his office desk, poring over files, folders, parchments and reports written in various languages. There were materials here from Oxsana, from Ivan, and from operatives both east and west of the U.K. Pavel needed to get a comprehensive picture of the Voldemort organization, past, present, and future. From time to time, Pavel would sit back and spread his arms wide on the desktop, allowing light to glow from his hands as luminescent lines of force began to worm their way across its surface, intertwining in intricate patterns, sometimes colliding with lines of other colors from other directions. At various points, as the motion progressed, he could see collisions occur, as a set of darker lines overwhelmed lighter ones, often creating a momentary flash after which the lighter strand simply disappeared.

A few minutes later, Pavel leaned back and closed his eyes, clearly fatigued and... grieved. His face showed beads of perspiration as he expended considerable effort allowing the strands of fate to manifest themselves from present into future, and mentally he mapped the destruction held in the future if left unaltered. He wrestled, for only a brief while, with the ethics of what he intended to do. Leave things as they are, and Light will ultimately prevail, but only after horrific suffering and loss of life. There would be tremendous disruption in the relations between the magical and muggle communities, death and destruction among multitude of not only humans, but other races as well. So much needless pain and suffering.

All because of a single demagogue, his charismatic attraction of a few key influential backers, clever use of jingoistic elitism, and ultimately clever politics and judicious corruption to attain control of legitimate power structures. Then turn the civil state into a martial state, and attempt to gain absolute totalitarian control. It didn't take an historian to recognize the pattern... it had worked well in Germany of the 20's and 30's... but to normal people there was a world of difference between studying political science or history in a classroom, and realizing that such things were happening all around in the present day.

And it wasn't even that no one had seen this developing as Hitler rose in his power. Hitler had help. More than one dark wizard backed the Reich, with its Death's Head troops, Himmler's SS-Schule Haus Wewelsburg, the eternal flame he intended to burn in the circle at its foundations gathering his Teutonic knights. It was not just vigilance, luck, or clean living that accounted for Hitler surviving the more than 40 attempts made on his life in those days.

There was a mighty and terrifying war unseen by muggles throughout the War. Long ago, Pavel had come to the conclusion that if it was ethical for mages of light to defend in a war with dark mages... especially when such a war costs 50,000,000 dead by the end of the counting, then it was far MORE ethical for mages of light to prevent such a war. What was the point of mastering Fate arcana, and understanding History, if not to know just how and where to apply the right pressure to events, so that disastrous forces of darkness cannot wreak havoc upon the innocent?

 _"Well," Pavel mused in his solitude, "today we shall begin TRULY to interfere with 'history'. Left alone, those fate threads will kill hundreds of fine witches, wizards, other fine creatures, and among them... some I've come to love. Let us see how delicately we can adjust the threads... how soon and efficiently can we alter the course of the time stream... to bring us to the same ultimate destination without all that destruction and devastation. This is not hubris, this is preventive surgery."_

* * *

The day went by smoothly, and when Harry left from their 3:00 class, Pavel quietly took him aside, as together they walked down the hall.

"I vill not be here for dinner this evening, but I should be back in time to play for a while after dinner. I haff some business to conduct, and wanted to let you know I shall be away. Ivan will be home so you and the children are welcome to spend your time however you choose, and be at home if you wish. Do not enter my Study, but otherwise all is fine. Stay out of trouble, please. And just so you don't worry, I am not doing anything risky or dangerous, this is just a meeting."

"Where are you going, Papa?" Harry asked, in simple curiosity.

"Kiev... if you must know, my nosy son. I shall be escorting a lady to dinner at the Khinkali Georgian Restaurant, and perhaps walking a bit along the Dnieper River, getting there through Mariinsky Park past the Mariinsky Palace."

"You're... you're going on a DATE? YOU?" Harry exclaimed, in a voice considerably louder than he had intended.

Pavel actually blushed, as did Harry, seeing a number of heads turn in their direction. There had been no silencing charm cast, as this wasn't intended as a particularly long, or risk laden, conversation and they stood off to the side of the doorway.

"No, in fact..." Pavel went on, seeing little point to casting a silencing charm now. To do so, he thought, would only make the situation worse. Better to just brazen it out. "This is a business meeting, but I want to assure absolute privacy, so I'm going where I can secure everything from being observed or overheard. I promise, venn I plan any future romance, I shall consult you first. Agreed?" he added with a laugh.

"I'm so sorry, Papa. I didn't mean... I was just, well, a bit surprised is all."

"Let it go, son. There's no rescuing a moment like that," Pavel laughed again. "As I say, I should be back before long, so let's go get a start on your homevork. Please."

"Yessir," Harry tried to walk along with all the dignity he could muster.

The Professor got a number of curious glances as he paced with dignity towards his apartments, until he had the privacy to blink to his Study. All had gone well on this, Pavel thought, as he reviewed his plans. He had mastered all the information available on Voldemort and his Death Eaters, both past and present. He urgently needed to sit down and compare notes with the current Magistrate, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Madame Amelia Bones. All his research into her background and biography indicated that she was both an excellent and highly skilled witch, as well as being of sterling character. She had managed to rise to high office in the Ministry not by corrupt practice or clever power brokering, but by extremely good judgment at picking her fights, alienating no one without good cause, and unquestionable integrity. By all indications, she did not demarcate people as "ally" or "adversary", so much as "trustworthy" or "not". Even corrupt or slimy ministry lackeys could appreciate a colleague who was forthright, predictable, and would never unexpectedly stab you in the back. Being an appointed subordinate of the Minister of Magic, the Minister could always - thus far, he thought - rein her in, should she ever become inconvenient to political exigencies.

It was high time for them to get together in complete privacy, where no one, ministry or not, could compromise their security. So Pavel had written a courteous invitation to dinner, containing a sealed envelope with a blue ribbon portkey inside. It was being delivered by Alastor Mooney, who could assure her of both her safety and the reasons for the secrecy. Due to the sensitive nature of their mission and the political ebb and flow of the ministry, Pavel felt it wise that their meeting remain under wraps from the Minister and his toadies. Madame Bones had been introduced to John and Oxsana, as new resources to her department. Pavel had no doubt the appointments may have ruffled her feathers a bit, being presented as a _fait accompli_ from the Minister's office, rather than anything she had been involved in negotiating. Pavel hoped to set her mind at ease about their presence, and assure her they were not there to represent the political interests of Fudge.

Alastor had delivered the invitation yesterday, answered any questions she had, and assured her of safety. Later in the day, Pavel received her RSVP acceptance by owl, and sent a polite acknowledgment and reply. He had let her know they would be dining in Kiev, and that she may want to bring a portkey with her for her journey home if she did not want to apparate, as they would be in parts of the city that included muggles. The silence of a portkey was often more discrete than the noise of apparation. Truth be told, Pavel could have provided her with the portkey to her home, but did not want to cause her the disquiet of concern that he knew where she lived. They had yet to develop such trust.

* * *

Pavel put all his documents away as he walked to his bedroom to change into dinner clothes - dressy black robes, wingtip collar, cravat, just a bit more formal than business attire, but not full formal regalia. Shrinking some documents into pockets and assuring that he was fully armed, he blinked on to his meeting point - the grounds of the Mariyinsky Palace - beautifully lit in what was now the deep evening darkness, on a hill overlooking the Dnieper River. The river bisected the ancient city, with gaslights reflecting from the water's surface like pearls strung along a necklace. Behind him waited the horseman and coach he had ordered to transport them for the evening, as they'd not be traveling far to reach the Khinkali Restaurant where he'd reserved a private booth.

Madame Bones arrived perfectly on time, also appropriately dressed for dinner at a fine restaurant, and showed no shock or surprise at their unusual surroundings. Ten feet away, as the ministry official manifested before him, Pavel waited for her balance to be restored and eyes adjust to the surrounding night.

His heels then clicked together as he bowed slightly from the hips, and said, "Madame Bones, I am honored that you have accepted my invitation." He then approached her, hand extended as for a muggle handshake. He wore thin black calfskin gloves as he took her hand, saying, "I appreciate your trust in meeting me at such a remote location. I wanted to be assured of maximum privacy, and here I can provide absolute security while your ministry traces and surveillance cannot monitor you or your movements." He did not intrude on her thoughts, but he could feel her predominant emotions... curiosity, caution, some anxiety, and a bit of... modesty? That last seemed strange.

"Your Honor, it is a pleasure to meet you, though I was, indeed, a bit concerned about such an unusual location. I should think a simple appointment, whether at my office or at Hogwarts, would suffice for our introductions," she replied, as she took Pavel's proffered arm and he walked her towards the horsedrawn carriage.

"Please call me 'Pavel', or 'Paul' if you prefer, as we are now professional colleagues. I thought we would benefit from greater privacy, as meeting anywhere within the purview of the Ministry would mean Minister Fudge and his associates would be informed of our getting together. Even if we assured the privacy of content, as by meeting at Hogwarts, he would still be aware that we are now collaborating, and the longer we can keep him from that knowledge, the better."

"I see. Well, that makes a lot of sense. This really IS a very lovely spot," she offered, looking about at the grounds and the shimmering lights. "Almost feels... romantic." And as she said the word, Pavel felt a flash of concern on her part, that his agenda really was professional, rather than personal.

"Ah, yes, dear lady," he chuckled, "as I left Hogwarts this evening, telling my ward I would be away for dinner with a lady, he blurted... in full hearing of a corridor filled with students... 'YOU!? You're going on a DATE?!' And there was absolutely no retrieving the moment. I'd had no silencing charms up, and there was simply no way to address the outburst without making things worse. However, allow me to assure you, nothing could be further from my mind this evening, even with so lovely a lady as yourself. My dear wife passed away a decade ago, and since then... well, the issue of romance has never come up in my life. Please rest assured, my intentions this evening are purely professional and utterly honorable. Although truth be told, I thoroughly enjoy having a fine meal in the company of a lovely colleague."

"Well, Pavel," she laughed, "having settled that concern satisfactorily, feel free then to address me as Amelia. I suspect 'Your Honor', and 'Mi'Lud' might grow cumbersome shortly."

"Indeed. Thank you, Amelia, and allow me to point out the sights and places of interest until we reach our destination." And so Pavel played "tour guide" as they clip-clopped their way to the restaurant, Amelia describing similar architecture in London or Paris with which she was familiar, and Pavel discussing the history of these buildings first as part of Imperial Russia, then the Ukraine. Upon arriving at the restaurant, the coach pulled around the front into a side alley, where a wrought iron arbor and gate set apart another entrance. Pavel alighted, taking with him his Staff that had been secured in the carriage, and assisted Amelia down off the step. Turning towards the gate, Pavel struck the cobblestone pavement firmly, and the gate opened to his command.

Entering, they were surrounded by gilt and candlelight. Chandeliers, sconces and table tea lights gave the room a perfectly adequate glow, at the same time as a sense of intimacy and privacy. Footmen greeted them, bowing, as they relieved them of their cloaks and outerwear, as the _maître d'hôtel_ showed them to Pavel's reserved curtained booth, one of many such, surrounding the open central seating of tables and chairs. Upon entering, Amelia noticed that she could understand the speech of her surroundings, and the menu cards appeared as though in archaic English script.

"Language charm?" she looked curiously at Pavel, as her quick eyes glanced comprehensively throughout their environment. Pavel noticed, with approval, that she made note of entrances and exits, along with any darkened corners that could potentially hide a threat.

"Yes. The restaurant provides this service, but it only affects magical patrons. If I can offer any assistance on particular dishes, I'll be glad to, but the menu describes them pretty well." While Madame Bones looked over the menu, Pavel ordered some _hors d'oeuvres_ and a bottle of wine, waiting patiently while the waiter brought bread and butter, with a sampler tray including pyrizhky, varenyky, and holubtsi. Amelia ordered a beef pyrih, knowing from her travels that this was similar to a steak and kidney pie. Their dinners arrived in due course, accompanied by a dish of steamed, seasoned vegetables. In the meantime, Pavel cast a silencing charm over them.

"I saw the memo announcing my appointment to the Ministry, noticing its lack of detail. I thought perhaps we could begin by clarifying roles. How have you interpreted our administrative relationship at present?" Pavel asked, in a friendly tone.

"Frankly, I'm not quite sure," Amelia answered thoughtfully. "Knowing Cornelius, I've thought he wanted to expand his control over the Law Enforcement division by appointing a magistrate through whom he could exert his will, undermining what justice and enforcement I am actually able to exercise. His memorandum made it clear that I held no authority over you and your court, but I expected him to exult in your authority over me and my tribunals, but no such claims were in the document. Knowing something of your reputation and stature in law, I expect you outrank me. So, not to bandy about, what controls do you intend to exert over my function?"

Pavel smiled, "I believe you and I will get along famously. You have asked a bold and straightforward question. Very well, here is the equally simple answer... 'None. None at all.' I have no intention whatever with interfering in any way with your administration of your division, or your conduct of tribunals. On the contrary, we are here tonight so that I can clarify for you my... our... 'agenda'; and that I discover how we may serve and empower you in your efforts. Perhaps this would be a good place to start..." and Pavel took a parchment from his pocket, restored it to full size, and handed it across the table. "There is my official Royal Commission to the Bench. Minister Fudge insisted that I become a Ministry judge, before he would approve the endorsement of John and Oxsana's commissions as Aurors here." So saying, he sat silently while Amelia carefully reviewed the Queen's Commission. Her facial expression transformed from annoyance, through confusion, to eventual astonishment.

"Lord Konstantyn!" she looked up with a glance of amazement, as Pavel shook his head. "How did you... why would... Um, has Fudge actually READ this document?"

"Pavel, please. And I doubt very much that he has read it. I know he received a copy, but I doubt he'd go to the trouble of actually perusing it, or that he would understand what he was reading anyway. In short, I suspect he has no idea, and for the moment that is fine with me. However, it does give me the ability to support YOU in administering justice, and keeping you free from some degree of political interference."

"You spoke a moment ago of disclosing your 'agenda'. Would you mind doing so? Then perhaps we can make some plans, or see how to help one another." she asked, without rancor.

"That is quite simple. Voldemort is assuredly active in some form, has active agents at work in the U.K. and elsewhere, and intends harm to my now ward apprentice and heir, Harry Potter. His bid for power makes him a danger not only to the magical community of the U.K., but to the entire population here and across Europe as well. He thirsts for world domination through the subjugation of muggles and co-opting of all magical authority. Therefore, while his efforts are currently confined to the U.K., if he succeeds with his plans here he will destabilize the peace between wizards, mages, and muggles the world over. John, Oxsana, and I are here simply to isolate and defeat him, insofar as possible without the loss of innocent lives. Even after he himself is eliminated, his followers will still present a clear and present danger to the peace and stability of the magical community, until all are rounded up and neutralized in one way or another."

"I see. Well THAT is certainly an agenda I can get behind. You've got your work cut out for you, however, regarding Cornelius Fudge. He is a dyed-in-the-wool proponent of the 'Ostrich Model' of crisis management. He finds the possibility of Voldemort's existence a political abomination. Therefore, Voldemort does not exist. His mind is made up. Don't confuse him with the facts. Thus, the Death Eaters that surround him, past and, I believe, present, can manipulate and corrupt him with impunity." Amelia nearly spat these last words, as her tone seethed with contempt. "What's worse, he surrounds himself with sycophants and toadies that just echo his version of truth, so he doesn't even get level-headed advice."

"I can see that. In just the brief dealings I've ever had with him, all that has been quite clear. It's quite a tribute to you that you've managed to keep your department as solid as you have. No one could ever accuse Alastor Moody, or even Kingsley Shacklebolt of being toadies or 'yes men'." Pavel complimented her.

"Aye, that's indeed been a challenge. It's mostly been a matter of picking our fights, keeping our heads down, and a great deal of plausible deniability. Still, the ministry is gradually being eroded day by day as quality people are being replaced by those more concerned with career security than caring for the public."

"Well, there's good news and bad news here for you. The bad news is, the situation will probably try to get worse before it seems to be getting better. The good news is, you are not alone. What's more, you have some very competent allies now committed to your safety and success. Let me share with you the results of our research into the Death Eaters, and if you could do the same we can focus our energies efficiently." So saying, Pavel passed a parchment to Amelia that summarized their findings thus far on Death Eaters suspected or confirmed, and the extent of their penetration into Ministry affairs.

Perusing the list quickly, Amelia noted, "I see nothing here of those incarcerated at present in Azkaban. I have serious objections to how much of that has been handled."

"Oh? How so?" Pavel replied attentively.

"It's the whole mess of the 'political intrigues' involved with justice tribunals. A number of Death Eaters were, or are, from influential families. The Minister would not permit a capital sentence of death to be passed on them, for fear of the family cursing him. Instead, most have been sentenced to Azkaban with an indefinite sentence being served 'at Her Majesty's pleasure'. Of course, as Her Majesty knows effectively nothing of these cases, that just becomes life without parole. Some, from influential families, but insufficient funds to bribe their way out of the dock, have simply been incarcerated without trial. Others were sent there without trial for lack of probable cause or sufficient evidence to warrant prosecution, but the Minister's personal certainty that they were a threat. Azkaban itself is an abomination, a place of torment and horror, populated with Dementor's whose very nature is vile. Our ultimate penalty is the Dementor's Kiss, removing the very soul of the offender to be cannibalized by these loathsome creatures."

"Hmmm. That will not do. Any ideas on how to resolve the situation? I'm certain you've tried. How did things go?"

"I've not been able to make much headway. Again, it comes down to 'picking my fights', and on this I have very little influence to extend. I believe that all inmates deserve fair trial. Simple accusation from an alleged co-conspirator is not a reliable means for ascertaining truth. Accusation should be corroborated with concrete evidence, but in this area of Imperius Curses, resistances, influence... it's nearly impossible to determine guilt beyond reasonable doubt in some cases. I'm not averse to capital punishment, but such a case should be simple execution, not the horror of the Dementor's Kiss. I've tried to review and try the backlog of accused, but not adjudicated, Death Eater accusations... but have been stymied every time by Fudge and his determination 'not to stir all that up again'. He's terrified of anything that reminds the public of Voldemort. Such fears would undermine his chances for re-election, he thinks."

Pavel's lips tightened, knowing all too well this kind of short-sighted political foolishness. "Very well. How do you feel about Alastor and Kinsley?" he asked, referring to the two most senior of her Aurors, as they gave their orders for entrees and were served a variety of appetizers.

"I trust them completely. They and I keep many things to ourselves as we navigate these treacherous waters," she answered.

"Good. I have known them, and they me, for a number of years. I realize you and I have only just met, but..."

Amelia interrupted with a smile, "One moment, sir. You are quite right that we've only just met. But... I take my role as a jurist very seriously, as well as the importance of Magical Law Enforcement. Therefore, I am very familiar with what information is publicly available about you. I've read your Law Review articles, particularly on restorative versus retributive justice. I'm also well aware, to the extent the information is public, of your efforts in cleaning up the Soviet Auror Corruption Scandal. I have attended a number of professional conferences on Magical/Muggle Relations where you've spoken over the years. It had, in fact, been my hope one day simply to get to meet and speak with you. So, in that I am completely convinced that you ARE Dr. Pavel Konstantyn, there is little you need as far as being vouched for as competent, professional, or ethical."

"You flatter me," he looked down with a bit of an embarrassed smile. "It sounds as if you well may hold me in much higher esteem than is warranted. However, to the extent that this allows us to begin effectively to collaborate together right away, rather than having to dance and posture developing a relationship of mutual respect and trust, I will live with your over-estimation willingly."

Amelia went on, "It is a bit embarrassing for me to review our judicial progress, investigations, prosecution of illegal activity, or diligence in dealing with Death Eaters or other agents of Dark Magic to you. I feel that, by any objective standard, we fall very short, and I am responsible for that. I can't offer any meaningful 'excuse' for that, but to say that this is a difficult... a bit obstructive... environment in which we work."

"Oh, Madame... Please do not mistake my intention of this meeting, or agenda as a whole. I am not here to 'evaluate', 'judge', or 'condemn' your activity or that of your department in the least. I could not be more pleased or impressed with the success and independence, the autonomy and integrity, that you HAVE managed to preserve in the presence of political pressures and management interference such as this. On the contrary, I deeply admire your skill and determination.

"You now have at your disposal, on any matter that may bear upon Voldemort or his lackeys, some additional resources of great value. Furthermore, when we have completed our investigations and developed an appropriate list, I shall be able to convene the High Court for trials that will remain free of interference by the Minister. Now, let me ask a completely different question for a moment.

"What, if any, relationship does your department have with MI5, here... the domestic intelligence apparat for muggles? Particularly as regards Voldemort and terrorism or organized crime?" Pavel sat back and focused on his meal, giving Amelia time to compose her answer without the pressure of his stare.

She thought for a considerable time before answering. "We have no 'formal' relationship with them. However, there are several squibs who serve in muggle government, including that department, with whom we keep in regular touch. We try to stay appraised of what they have going on, without violating our secrecy laws. I've floated the idea of more direct collaboration, but it's always been quashed immediately, so again it's one of those 'pick my fight' issues, that I've decided not to fight."

Pavel nodded, "Very well. Then this should please you. Because of my teaching relationship with military and civilian intelligence apparats, I have a 'muggle persona' accepted pretty well in British Intelligence. If you would like, or whenever you would like, I can arrange a little 'off the grid meal' like this one between you and a muggle counterpart. I don't know that it would be an advantage as yet, but later down the road when we begin to clean things up, you may well find it worth your while. That about takes care of everything I had in mind to discuss. What more would you like to talk about?" Pavel smiled, continuing to eat.

"Oh, my. Well, I'm a bit overwhelmed and still digesting everything I think," she laughed. "I feel so much... well, 'lighter', I guess is the word. I can't tell you what a relief it is, after so long of fighting against a tide as strong as 'politics', with only a few strong allies at my side, to see some real hope for change on the horizon. I'm sure questions will come to me over time, but for the moment, just... thank you so much!"

Pavel blotted his lips with the linen napkin as he laughed, "Ah, dear lady, I know well the feeling of solitude one can have 'standing in the gap', and I'm delighted to grant some relief from that. Enough business! Now, for something completely different... tell me of your family! I believe I have the privilege and pleasure of teaching a couple of your kin, do I not?"

She laughed in return, "Ha! You are a man of great tact and courtesy, kind sir. Indeed, two of my nieces are subject to your tutelage. Susan is a second year Hufflepuff, with whom I doubt you will have any trouble. The other, Bonnie, is a Gryffindor in my guardianship after the death of her parents, and she's a bit more of a handful," Amelia chuckled. "Let me apologize, now, and in advance, for any problems you may be experiencing with her!"

"Not at all, kind lady. Not at all. Susan is exceedingly bright, kind, industrious, and prompt with her work. She is indeed a pleasure to have in class. Bonnie, however, is a delight! Please never apologize for her to me, at least. She is quite possibly brilliant, certainly gifted, and almost absolutely irrepressible. I've seldom seen her in a bad mood, though I'm sure they are profound when they come, and while she is indeed challenged regarding simple classroom disciplines, she takes correction with equanimity and grace."

"Oh what a charmer you are, sir," Amelia crooned. "How easily you make an observation of misconduct transform into a compliment. So, how many has it been?" She tilted her head a bit to the left, looking a bit like a curious bird.

"How many? How many what?" Pavel asked, pouring them both a bit more wine.

"How many detentions has she garnered with you thus far? She's written to me about how much she enjoys your course, and mentioned in passing that she gets in trouble there most weeks."

"Ah, well it may surprise you to know, she has NEVER had an involuntary detention with me!" he paused a moment. "She has, however, spent a considerable amount of time standing, or kneeling, in my class... but she's never even gotten to the corner. I have 'graduated penalties' for misbehavior, starting with standing. And she's really not that troublesome. She speaks as she thinks, and I know she's not even completely aware of it. That's why I'm happy to be patient and train her, rather than get irritated and punish her. She means no disrespect at all, she just struggles against silence or self-restraint."

"Ha! Not many of her teachers have ever realized that. I used to get consistent calls from muggle schools when I tried to educate her there, and ultimately had to just hire a tutor for her. I wanted her to have a more rounded experience of our muggle environment than simply 'Muggle Studies' would provide. Fortunately, she makes friends easily, and has a number of muggle friends. This year, the holidays, we'll see if she can keep secrecy intact and continue to interact with them. She's best friends with Ginny Weasley, so I hope to keep her free of the 'pureblood' bias. Aside from that, I'm sure you've encountered her fixation on bunny rabbits. I gather you've... well... you've encouraged her a bit?""

"Ah, that... well, I suppose you could say I have. In History of Magic we deal quite a bit with governance, law, power, and therefore..." Pavel coughed gently, "politics a bit. Ms. Bones made me aware of her view on rabbits as acceptable familiars, and her dissatisfaction with the Hogwarts policy. She asked for my support in opposing this policy. I stated that, being faculty, I felt disqualified from taking sides. On the other hand, there were ways she could respectfully, and in an orderly manner, make her case known, seek the support of her peers, and propose alteration of the policy. I suggested she conduct some research on alterations of policy in light of popular opinion."

"I gathered it was something like that. She wrote to me a couple weeks ago, asking my definition of, and view on, 'civil disobedience'. I hardly knew what to do so say."

Pavel laughed to hear and consider this. "What DID you say?"

"I defined it. I then said, when a matter has moral or ethical impact on the wellbeing of a people, I consider civil disobedience justified. However, it must always be borne in mind that by its very nature, this is an activity that invites authoritative response and civil or criminal punishment. That if this were something she was considering, to please be sure the cause was one she would be proud to see associated with her name or mine. She has no immunity from prosecution or other disciplinary actions, just because of our names. In fact, it is more likely the opposite. I got no further response, and have lived with a bit of trepidation ever since."

"I see. Well, please be at peace. I am a great believer in 'practical exercises' alongside 'theory'. Bonnie is quite open to advice, while she yet makes her own decisions assuredly. I believe she is circulating a petition among the students, requesting rabbits be added to the list of acceptable companion pets. She is trying to organize a debate around the issue. I do not anticipate a student strike or picketing march over this, at least not yet. Albus is enjoying all this immensely! Of course, she's not yet done the one thing..."

"You're kidding me, Pavel! Has she yet bothered, simply to ASK HIM?"

"No. Of all things, she's still a bit cowed by all that up in the Great Hall. She's never spoken to him directly, nor asked him. She asks US to ask him, but none of us will do this. If she wants this change, she needs to make an appointment on her own, and ask him herself. Please don't tell her that, however. We're waiting to let her conclude that on her own."

"Oh, how wonderful you all are! Putting up with all her pesting! I know how she can be. Just to teach!"

"She's a born leader, Amelia. We're happy to help her develop that rightly. And as far as her getting in trouble in my class, she only gets in trouble when she sits next to Ms. Weasley... which, granted, is most days. But we're making some progress there. Of course, like a good parent, a teacher tries not to have 'favorites' but, truth be told..."

"Say no more, sir. I feel much better about her welfare and situation there now. I appreciate your interest and care. Please feel free to deal with her as your own, and know you have my full support in her training and formation."

"Thank you for that. Now, speaking of students, I wonder if you would consider something for me?" Pavel opened.

"Certainly. Is there something Harry needs?" Amelia queried.

"No, not Harry. But are you familiar with Percy Weasley?"

"Arthur's third son? Yes, I've met him a time or two. Why?" she asked, a bit cautiously.

"He is currently in his fifth year at Hogwarts, preparing for his O.W.L. examinations. Judging from his responses in History of Magic, I gather he is interested in politics or administration. Seeing how he behaves as prefect, he is extremely mindful of rules and order. I find his work detailed, meticulous, but a bit lacking in flexibility or imagination. I've no doubt that he will ultimately seek a career in the Ministry, and considering the undercurrents of battle occuring there, that could go well or ill for him, depending on what 'party' he throws his hat in with."

Amelia nodded, "I can see that, yes."

"Well, I should like to influence his choice, but very subtly. He seeks recognition and prestige, and he positively beams with even the least praise or recognition. At the moment, it makes him a bit of a prig, but he can outgrow that. What would you think of him serving his internship next year as a clerk to your department? One reason I asked about your connections with MI5 is that the Voldemort situation can easily be designated a terrorism threat to the realm, and thus be placed under extreme secrecy. We, both you and I, can make great use of a meticulous, detailed, industrious clerk as we assemble our cases. If those cases come under the Crown's Secrecy Act and Percy is sworn to that, then he is safe from being forced to disclose anything of our work even to the Minister himself. He'd be unable to disclose anything but for those read in to the brief."

Amelia nodded again, "Yes..."

"I think, with the right training and nurturance, Percy has the makings of a fine solicitor. In a couple years, I could see him serving as Solicitor General for both of us, sorting out cases we need to hear from those that can be dealt with otherwise. I have no doubt of his integrity, particularly knowing what I do of his family. But I do worry about his naivete, and being lulled into a sense of false dignity and self-righteousness being a bit star-struck by any attention from the Minister or his toadies. He is extremely dedicated to law and order. He does not yet see the nuances of that, or what happens when too much power is accumulated by the wrong people."

"You could be right," Amelia mused. "Personally, I've always found him a bit too unctuous when at a function with families. He tries to act older and wiser than his age, which just makes him look... as you say... a bit of a prig. But I can see that, particularly given his household and the achievements of his brothers, along with his father's 'middle-management' position - for which he doesn't get NEARLY the credit he deserves, that he could just be trying to stand out and express his own desire for excellence or recognition. What exactly are you proposing?"

"I'm not sure, precisely, yet. But he'll be counseled this year towards his career goals. Given his penchant for abiding by the rules, and social order, I could ask Minerva to see if he's interested in a legal career, and thus if he'd be open to a student internship with you alongside his sixth year studies. I'm sure he'd jump at the chance, in that you are a major player in the Ministry hierarchy. Thus I can work with him from the school side, while you from the Ministry. We protect him from the toadies, while we reap the benefits of a damn good clerk, I would bet," Pavel smiled, as he poured coffee for them both, having finished their meal.

"You... are a bloody devious man, Pavel Konstantyn... anyone ever tell you that?" Amelia laughed, pouring some cream into her cup.

"May have been mentioned... a time or two... perhaps. Any objections?"

"None at all, sir. Consider me on board with this. Have we any other business?" she smiled, sipping her coffee.

"Only one small thing, madame," and he removed one of his Rune Coins from his waistcoat pocket. "As matters proceed, and particularly as we make any progress, there will be increased risks to your safety. I know how well trained and careful you are - " he raised his hand slightly to cut off her pending interruption of protest - "I accept all of that without disagreement. However, YOU, in YOUR role, are often alone or clustered among potential threats, whereas Alastor, Kingsley, John, and Oxsana nearly always have backup ready to hand. All I ask is this... if you are willing, you may have this Coin, and keep it on your person. It has, or will have once you accept and touch it, a number of barrier protection spells, a stick/unstick charm that will respond only to you, and it solidifies a sympathetic connection to me and my 'clan' such that should you CHOOSE to communicate, you only have to will your words to us and we will hear you. If you choose, you may decide to allow us communication with you the same way, but that will not happen unless you open that choice voluntarily. I will not be offended if you decline the offer, as we've only just met and you have no concrete reason not to believe such an item could compromise your own privacy or security. I don't even need an answer right now, if you want to think on this for a while. But, should you choose to accept, once you touch the coin, it will key to you alone."

"Pavel..." for the first time using his first name, "I need no time to think about it," she said, reaching out to pick up the coin. "I am grateful and flattered that you would think of this, and allow me to make the offer reciprocal. I would be foolish indeed to think I'm smart enough or strong enough not to benefit from trusted backup. I'm not so arrogant as that. And I'll be delighted for you and yours to be able to reach me through this. But please consider your offer reciprocal. If you or yours need ME, make me aware of that and I shall respond if possible."

"Thank you, Amelia." Pavel said, softly.

Madame Bones held the coin in her hands for a long few moments, letting it glow and bond with her. Being a witch of great skill and various talents, Pavel could see that she was examining it in many dimensions. This... he saw... was a brilliant witch. He was so glad this alliance was moving forward well.

"For now, then, milady... I believe we are finished. Shall we go?" as he rose to hold her chair. The bill had been settled long before they arrived, and they now only needed to find a private space to portkey or apparate home from. "This part of the restaurant is magical, so if you choose to apparate once we reclaim our coats, feel free as there are no muggles to see. I cannot thank you enough for making this time available, and for all your consideration. Let us see about getting together again, perhaps in the mid-term holiday, when we can let the children play a bit together and catch up on our progress?"

"That would be excellent, sir," she agreed, as they were brought their cloaks by an attentive servant. "Thank you again, for a lovely evening, and have fun with Bonnie!" she laughed as she stepped aside to apparate.

"Indeed, I'm sure it will be most 'educational'. Travel safely!" Pavel bowed, awaiting her departure before he Blinked back to his own bedroom. He arrived back at 7:45 p.m. local time, quickly wanded himself out of his formal attire, back into his comfortable lounging robes, dueling gear, and delightedly clapped once, scrubbing his hands together in great satisfaction as he left his room to join the children - all five of them - playing some sort of magic/casting game in the living room that should probably be forbidden.

 _He wondered if they'd let him play, too._


	3. Blink

**Blink**

 _"Papa, I think we may have a bit of a problem," John mind-spoke._

Pavel groaned. It had been such a lovely, simple, problem-free Friday! The children had done their morning Potions detention without incident. He'd gotten all his paperwork cleared for the week. He'd even taken care of some business correspondence and issues from home, and the children hadn't received a single new detention for the past five days. _"A new record,"_ he thought. He was now just settling in to his 4:00 Study Hall proctoring duties, and watched as Harry walked in with some other students, a bit flushed and breathless.

 _"What's that, my son?" Pavel replied, eyeing Harry suspiciously._

 _"Is Harry with you right now?"_

 _"Sort of. I'm in the Study Hall and he has just walked in. Why? What has he done?" as a hint of anger tinged the edges of his voice._

 _"No, no, Papa. He's not in trouble, exactly. That is to say he's not done anything wrong, exactly..."_

 _"Ivan, you KNOW I don't like meaningless statements. Why don't you tell me what he HAS done, and I shall decide whether it is wrong or not? Hmmm?"_

 _"Well, it's just that I'm not sure, sir. I believe he has just 'blinked' there," John's tone indicated some amazement._

 _"Oh, my," Pavel's tone calmed considerably. His heart shifted from anger to a combination of pride, and fear. "Please tell me you're making a bad joke."_

 _"Not at all, Papa. He and I were out here riding our brooms and talking. We'd been discussing how to get more speed in flight. I was showing him how to adjust his wind resistance, and his weight, both physically and magically. Then we talked about using_ imago _to picture himself faster than otherwise possible, and we had lost track of time. No clocks out here, as you know. The other students had already gone in, as we experimented a bit with speed, and he heard the final bell beginning to chime. He said... erm... he noticed he may be late, never mind what he actually said..."_

Pavel grimaced, having some idea...

 _"and suddenly he wasn't on his broom anymore. It just hung there in midair, until it started to fall. I put it away, and looked for Harry or his trail using magesight. There is no trail to you. I believe... he blinked."_

 _"Thank you for letting me know, Ivan. This could complicate our lives considerably, you realize."_

 _"Yes, sir. But it could also improve his ability to survive, evade, or escape in an emergency."_

 _"Granted. But imagine the uses he will far more frequently put it to..."_

 _"Ah, yes, Papa," and Pavel could hear the smile in his son's voice, "But I'm sure you can find ways to discourage and dissuade him from imprudent choices."_

 _"Ha!" Pavel mentally snorted. "We shall see, my son. I seem cursed with extremely 'independent' thinking offspring!"_

 _"I'll leave you to it, then, Papa. Tell Harry I took care of his broom," John signed off._

Pavel walked over to Harry as his companions found seats. "Mr. Potter? Where are your study materials?"

"Sorry, Professor. I lost track of time. They're in my Dorm room at the moment. May I go get them?" Harry asked.

"You may, but bear in mind you are already tardy. Don't take long." Pavel instructed, in the same neutral voice he would use to address any student.

"Yes, sir. Be right back," Harry answered, knowing he'd get lines for the lateness, resolving to be as quick as he could. His penalty would depend on how long it took to get working at his seat. He wasn't afraid of the punishment; he just wanted to keep it to a minimum. So, he decided to experiment, stopping in the first available hallway alcove to close his eyes and focus intently on his inner vision of his Dorm room. He concentrated on speeding his way there, and the urgency of the trip. Sure enough, he felt a moment of lightheadedness, and opened his eyes alongside is four-poster bed just as he had envisioned. Quickly he grabbed his satchel, envisioned himself just outside the doors to the Study Hall, and prompted the low-in-his-gut feeling of impulsion that accompanied this new form of locomotion. He tried keeping his eyes open this time, but could not quite make it happen. However, trying again when he closed his eyes... there he was, precisely where he pictured himself.

Harry dashed into the Study Hall, feigning breathlessness, and made his way to Pavel.

"You have made good time, Mr. Potter. You are out of breath. Did you run the entire way?" Pavel knew how he had traveled. No expression or tone betrayed his concern as he hoped he would not be lied to.

"No, sir. I just made good time."

Relieved, Pavel pressed further, "Mr. Potter, how did you get to your room and back so quickly?"

"I'm not entirely sure, sir. I pondered heavy on where I wanted to be, then sort of 'pushed myself' there, and then back."

"Were you experimenting with a new use of magic, Mr. Potter?" Pavel asked, rather formally.

 _"Papa? Is something wrong? Am I in trouble for something? I mean, I know I was late by two minutes, but besides that?" Harry asked, nervously._

 _"I'm honestly not sure yet, Harry. I'm not angry, but we need just to follow some protocol here, so go with me. It will all be fine."_

 _"OK, then. What now?"_

 _"Now, just answer the question honestly."_

"Sort of, sir. I guess..." Harry answered, a bit nervously.

Pavel threw a silencing spell around them. "Did you have supervision while experimenting with that spell, or has it been approved for your unsupervised use by any faculty member, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir. Not exactly."

"Very well. Here..." as Pavel handed Harry a small rolled up parchment, "is your assignment for lines to complete for being tardy by two minutes. Normally, I'd want them finished now. However, Monday will be acceptable, as I would like you to take this note..." handing Harry a second rolled up parchment, "to Professor McGonagall now. You'll find her in her office." This second parchment was sealed with Pavel's signet seal on red wax. Pavel could feel the anxiety from Harry, but it was at a manageable level, and Pavel wanted to keep conversation and explanations to a minimum.

Harry left, walking thoughtfully to the Transfiguration classroom and his Head of House's office. Finding Professor McGonagall seated at her desk marking student papers, she looked up as she heard his footsteps approach.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," McGonagall glanced up with a smile. "What brings you here this afternoon?"

"I have a note for you, Professor," Harry admitted, holding the note out for her as he approached her desk.

She set her quill down in its tray as she sat back looking a bit surprised. "I see..." she answered, taking the parchment from Harry, and reading it over carefully.

Her face took on a serious mien as she read a missive that seemed to be eight inches long or more. Harry wondered how Professor Konstantyn drafted so long a letter with a single snap of his finger.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter..." and she rose, heading out from her classroom walking to the gargoyles flanking Headmaster Dumbledore's spiral staircase. "Peanut Brittle... Is the Headmaster available?" she asked.

"Yes, Deputy Headmistress. He awaits you both within," rumbled the surprisingly polite granite monstrosity. Harry had never heard the statue's low gravelly rumbling voice before. In fact, he hadn't realized the statues spoke at all. He and Professor McGonagall mounted the rising spiral stairs and dismounted at the top.

"Come in, dear friends, come join me!" the Headmaster gushed, standing from his desk to lead them to his sitting area. "Sweet?" he offered a bowl of various confections as they headed to the comfy chairs and settee. They declined gracefully, and watched a tea tray with tea, coffee, and cocoa appear on the small table before them, accompanied by a variety of nibbles. He accepted the missive Professor McGonagall offered him, as he settled into his well worn armchair, and she poured for all of them.

Harry had yet said nothing but a polite, "No thank you, sir," when offered the candy bowl. He wasn't at all sure if his visit was social, or if he was in deep trouble, so he chose to keep his options and ears open, and his mouth shut.

Albus tilted his head slightly up, as carefully he read Pavel's letter through his half-moon spectacles. Harry figured it couldn't be too bad, since the Headmaster was smiling by the time he finished.

"So, Harry, I gather congratulations are in order?" Albus began.

"Headmaster?" Harry answered, slightly confused.

"It seems you are mastering a new spell. A new ability, no?"

"Well, kind of, sir. I wouldn't say 'mastered'. Not yet, anyway."

"Why don't you tell us all about it?" Albus smiled, as he handed Harry a cup of cocoa.

Harry then described how he and John had been outside discussing increased flying velocity, and John was showing him ways - both physical and magical - to reduce his weight and wind resistance profile to get better speed from his broom. Then they went on into the use of _imago_ to apply passion and magic to move forward as greater speeds than the broom "thought" it was capable of. Then, how the broom seemed to respond, but he realized they'd lost track of time and he would be late to Study Hall, and he tried to fly at his fastest possible speed, but wound up standing in front of the Study Hall doors instead, along with the trips to and from his dorm room to reduce his penalty for tardiness. Harry wasn't sure if he'd done anything wrong, but he had not meant to. Still, he'd admitted to Papa, when asked, that he'd used unsupervised magic, that had not been cleared for unsupervised use by a faculty member.

Albus set his mind at rest, passing a plate of biscuits his way, saying, "Harry, as far as I am concerned, you are in no trouble," and he paused to see Minerva smiling and shaking her head as well. "All right, that goes for both of us, so nothing to worry about. It seems you have attained control over a magical ability the Konstantyn's call 'Blink', and you seem very close to attaining mastery over it. I have here," indicating the foot long parchment written by Pavel, "both a letter, note, sent by Professor Konstantyn, along with a fairly succinct report comparing and contrasting 'Apparation' with 'Blink'. It may please you to note that while my instincts and normal procedure in a case like this would be to ask Professor Konstantyn to join us in this meeting, he has requested not to do so because he feels he cannot be objective in his judgments on the situation due to his strong affection and desire to advocate for you and on your behalf. He doesn't believe he could be fair." Albus chuckled, shaking his head slowly, as if to dismiss such a concern as unnecessary.

"Now, the situation is this: Apparation, as a form of transport, is highly regulated. You must be of age to be trained. Trainers are not Hogwarts faculty, but Ministry personnel. You are tested before being trained. Then you train. Then you are tested for proficiency. Then you are issued a license. None of this can happen before age 17. If what you were, or are, doing were 'Apparation', it would be forbidden you for 5 more years, and the wards of Hogwarts should prevent it. Bear that last point in mind, Harry, for it is a point strongly in your favor. One reason Apparation is so highly regulated is that it is inherently dangerous. Should one's concentration flag while apparating, a body part may be left behind, or a person may suffer 'splinch' when two objects attempt to occupy the same space. The person is literally 'squeezed' from the dimensions in the location they depart from in disapparation - creating that uncomfortable twisting inside-out feeling - to the mentally imaged destination location where they are 'spat out' in reapparation. This spacial reconfiguration results in air pressure changes that account for that 'bang' or 'pop' sound that accompanies it.

"Now, 'Blink', as described here by Professor Konstantyn works in an entirely different way, as the _imago_ is used fundamentally to 'ignore' space and time as media, and 'slide' the person from one point of spatial consciousness to another. There is no 'spell of apparation', no twisting of space/time or exertion of forces, no air pressure differentials, and no risk of splnching or other mechanical injury based on the technique. The 'Blink' is an exercise of will and location whereby the person either relocates, or fails to do so. There is no 'process' involved to create risk.

"Are you understanding me on all this, Harry?" Albus asked.

"I think so, sir. Though I don't know much about apparating, except that when I've done it with someone else I always feel like I've been digested by a worm and spat out, and I want to throw up when I land."

"Quite so, Harry. And what does this... this, whatever it is you're doing... feel?"

"I don't feel anything really, except a kind of pressure in my belly, like when I cough or something, when my eyes are closed. I tried to do it with my eyes open, but couldn't make it happen. I have to close my eyes, then 'push', and when I open my eyes, I'm where I wanted to be."

"Professor McGonagall? Anything you'd like to ask?" Albus turned towards her.

"Do you feel tired, or dizzy, or hot, or cold, or anything, when you do this, Harry?"

Harry chewed his lips, and his eyes looked up and left as he tried to think. "No, ma'am. I don't think so. Honestly, the couple times it's happened I was just so happy about it, I just felt really good. It's really cool, Professor!"

"I'm sure it is, Harry," she laughed. "I think I may be a bit envious. Now, with the Headmaster's permission, I would like to try a little experiment. I want to use my wand to check a couple things on you, and ask the Headmaster to do the same, and then, would you be willing to try to Blink to my office... I'm sure you've been there enough to envision it clearly," and delicately she did not mention WHY he has been there well enough to envision it... "and remove the Gryffindor paperweight from my desk, and then Blink back here with it?" she looked at the Headmaster for his approval, which he nodded to her immediately.

"Sure," Harry stood up, excited. "I'll be glad to try. I think I can do this, but it's still kinda new so, I'm not sure."

"Wait just a moment, Harry. We're going to measure some things on you right now... metabolism, pulse, respiration, blood pressure, adrenalin, and magical core index, along with whatever the Headmaster would like to see. Then when you return we will do the same, and compare the figures. All right?"

"Sure. This sounds like fun!" Harry beamed.

"Think of it as one of the Professor's famous 'challenges', eh, Harry?" Albus chuckled, as he and Minerva scanned Harry all over with their wands, generating their results onto parchment that appeared alongside them. When all this was finished, and the professors had examined both reports, Albus said. "OK, Harry, at your pleasure, go see if you can retrieve Professor McGonagall's paperweight and return here that way."

"OK, be right back, I think... I hope..." and without drawing his wand Harry closed his eyes, as they watched him furrow his brow at first, and then, as if remembering something pleasant... his face smoothed into a peaceful smile and... he disappeared.

Not more than 30 seconds later, he reappeared in the same place he had been standing, paperweight in hand. "I DID IT!" he fist pumped.

"You DID, my boy! Well done! Now, hold still for us a moment," Albus instructed.

"OK," and Harry unnecessarily assumed a position of attention, as the wands scanned him again.

"Harry, please relax," Minerva laughed. "I don't know if we're reading the results of your transport, or the results of trying to stand so still. Just be yourself, please."

Again, parchments recorded all their data from scanning, and Harry was told to sit and enjoy a snack while they took some time to look everything over. The professors took all four parchments up to Dumbledore's desk and laid them side by side as they compared the 'Before' and 'After' findings. Harry could hear them deliberate too quietly for him to make out, and found himself... not for the first time... wishing he shared some of that 'Konstantyn extraordinary hearing' that so often worked to his disadvantage - most often when saying something forbidden at home. He hoped he'd be allowed to do this as 'approved and unsupervised', but he was happy enough just to know he wasn't in trouble for it.

"Thank you, Harry, for all your cooperation. You may now return to your Study Hall..." and at this point Albus lowered his gaze to look over the top of his spectacles, "and finish up your lines. We will let you and the family know our decision later tonight. For now, we need to discuss and deliberate a bit. Feel free to pocket a biscuit, if you like. Straight back, now, no dawdling. And walk... for this trip." Albus chuckled, as he dismissed the lad.

Harry laughed in return, "Yes, sir. And thank you... both," as he jumped on the spiral staircase.

* * *

Supper in the Great Hall was its typical raucous cacophony. Albus and Minerva took the opportunity to quiz Pavel and John about the nature of Blink, as Severus listened with close interest. It seemed odd that neither Pavel nor John took an active role in the discussion. In the meantime, the children sat eating at the Gryffindor table below them, and Harry had explained the situation to Ron and Hermione. Casting casual glances up at the Head Table, they could all tell some serious discussion was going on, so no one wanted to interrupt with questions by mind-speak.

Minerva said, "Paul, I realize you are trying to avoid biasing our discussion or decisions, but there's more to this than that. We can tell that you are anxious, and from all that we have seen, it seems this is a very good ability that Harry would have at his disposal for defense or evasion in case of an attack. What downside concerns you so? John? What do you think about all this?"

"I know what Papa's concerns are, and I share them a bit, but while he hesitates to take part in the discussion, I will. Harry has managed to 'intuit' the nature of 'Blink' from truly incomplete, inadequate information. His 'magical intuition' is astonishing and, frankly, a bit frightening. I 'taught' him to do this, with nothing but encouragement that he visualize magic in a bit different way than he is accustomed to, and he put that advice together with the feelings he experiences when he does magic, both sensory and emotional, and then tuned his own processes of thought, will, and passion to function effectively in this - what should be for him - entirely alien paradigm. You are quite right that this can be a tremendous asset to his survivability.

"At the same time, though," John continued, "he has apparently 'perfected' this technique - or nearly done so - with nothing but a few trial runs. That is unusual in the extreme. It would be a bit like his broom flying or Quidditch ability, consistent more with a prodigy than a novice. This gives us concerns in two areas...

"One, how likely is this to repeat itself? How many other abilities is he likely to manifest, well before the natural age for them to develop, just because he is exposed to them and he soaks up magical talent like a sponge? And this ability alone can make him very difficult to manage, especially now as he readies himself to enter as emotionally tumultuous a time as his adolescence?

"Two, this is Harry we're talking about, developing the ability to transport himself anywhere, at any time, by just clearly thinking of the destination with sufficient specificity and accuracy. Given his impetuous nature, how safe is that? There are good reasons apparation is not permitted until magical adulthood. This is a bit like handing the keys of a Formula One race car to a 12 year old. And once mastered, it's not like we can take the keys back away."

"I see," Albus mused. "Is that a fair statement of your principal concerns, Pavel?" he asked. "Are you thinking it may be wiser for me to disapprove of this ability at this time, so that Harry doesn't abuse it?"

"Yes and no, dear friends. I truly am torn on all this," Pavel responded. "First, I truly do not want to interfere or influence your deliberations or fair determination of ruling, as this is altogether your school and responsibility. 'Your house, your rules', as so often we say. And this ability becomes as natural as breathing or walking, once truly mastered. That is particularly true if the skrying skill is developed as well, so that one can accurately envision a destination where you've never been, but can gain a sympathetic connection to. The simple concerns of Harry just wandering the Castle after curfew are aggravating enough, without the added realization that he could wander anywhere on Earth, given a clear enough idea to form the _imago_ for it. That's where I'm torn. If he is forbidden, would he... CAN he even... refrain from its use? And if it is exercised, even in his sleep or as accidental magic, will it then be in a 'wild, undisciplined' state, as opposed to our embracing it, training it, and making him as responsible for its proper use as he is any other piece of authorized magic? I fear giving it undue significance and mystique, by trying to forbid it. At the very same time, I shudder to think what we will go through if he IS authorized to use it."

Pavel laughed as he shook his head and took a long sip from his coffee cup. "There you have it, lady and gentlemen, that's why I rejoice that this is your decision, Albus... and Minerva, since your Head of House for him... not mine."

"I see," Dumbledore laughed, watching the 'hot potato' thrown back into his hands. "Do you at least have a recommendation or preference to offer?"

"Well, I do, Uncle Albus," John volunteered. "I think Blink is going to become part of Harry, and we're probably better off embracing and training it, than trying to force it underground."

Pavel nodded, "I'm afraid I agree. Though it grieves me... I believe that would be my recommendation as well. But were you to deem it unwise, or ill befitting Hogwarts... I could not dispute you."

Albus' habitual smile faded just a shade as he asked Pavel seriously, "I sense a reticence about this that is unlike you, old friend. What concerns you so? You seem... worried."

Pavel took a deep breath, and paused for thought before replying. "It's just that this will try him even further. He struggles with impulsiveness, obedience, discipline and responsibility as it is. We do not want him to lose anything of his passion, creativity, or spontaneity, and we know he must learn to think on his feet. Thus far we've channeled his adventurous nature pretty successfully, and other than the Basilisk episode, he's followed rules fairly well. I am not so much concerned that he will abuse or be harmed by this new ability. I am more concerned that as it becomes second nature to him, we will be forced to become even more protective or restrictive around him. I'm not sure how to 'normalize' this for him, and make him just as accountable for its use - neither more nor less - than the use of any other authorized spell.

"The other thing that concerns me is simply the way this came about. It 'emerged', with very little prompting. I suspect that he is likely to have other abilities emerge in just the same way, and we could find that very 'awkward' or 'inconvenient'. In most places, when a mage is being schooled through apprenticeship, these abilities develop later and more gradually, and the youngster is not in the sort of magically dense social matrix of an academy. Usually an apprentice is much more isolated, surrounded by their Maestro and other skilled mages experienced with training apprentices or themselves graduated journeymen. This situation makes Harry a bit of a loose cannon, and I'm not sure what repercussions this may have. What if this triggers a contagion? What if other students begin to develop new abilities as well?"

Albus nodded. "Pavel? I appreciate your concerns, and to some extent I share them. By the same token, I trust very strongly in Harry, in you and the family, and in Hogwarts and her staff. I believe together we will pass through whatever comes for the moment and into the future, and should evolution occur here, we will turn it to the good. Perhaps such a thing is strongly what is meant to happen. Who knows? In the meantime, may we gather with the children at your home after this, and I'll make my ruling known?"

"Of course, Headmaster," Pavel bowed his head, in a rare acknowledgment of the rank and role of his old friend.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	4. Wicked Cool

**Wicked Cool**

The children were shocked upon arriving at the Konstantyn home after supper, to find the room set up as if for an Inquiry. Headmaster Dumbledore sat in the prominent chair, with Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Konstantyn in a row behind him. A matching set of the children's chairs stood opposite, one in front, two behind. The faculty all wore reassuring smiles, indicating that nothing was wrong, but still, the very arrangement was disquieting.

"Harry, have a seat," Albus indicated with a friendly wave towards the front chair, as Ron and Hermione took seats behind Harry's.

"First of all," Albus began, "let me assure you that nothing is wrong. No one is in trouble, and nothing here is a discussion of punishment." This brought a very relieved look to everyone. "Harry may have told you, or perhaps not, that he has developed a new ability, and that that skill requires me, as Headmaster, to rule on the nature of spell used. Because it is a transport spell similar to _"Apparate"_ , I've had to consider whether it requires the same degree of regulation and supervision.

"I've determined that it does not. Harry? Perhaps you could demonstrate for all of us? Please Blink into Professor Konstantyn's Study, open the door that we may see you there, then Blink into your own room, and rejoin us here."

Harry nodded, then did exactly as he'd been told. He stood up, disappeared from the living room, opened the Study door from the inside, disappeared again, and walked out from his bedroom to retake his seat.

"Wicked Cool!" breathed Ron, in sheer amazement and admiration.

After Harry sat back down, Pavel asked, "Harry? Would you please do that again, but this time, from a seated position? See if you can blink from and to seated positions in each room? Just Blink from your bedroom to your seat here, if you can."

Harry closed his eyes, and did so... taking only a moment longer to comply than the first trip.

"Thank you, Harry," Albus smiled, as Pavel ran his fingers through his own hair, and sat back with an audible sigh, nodding to Albus. "My ruling is this... You are NOT apparating. Therefore, this ability does not come under the ministry's rules or regulations regarding such transport. This is a simple means of locomotion, as available to you as walking, running, or broom flight. I approve the use of this spell under the same conditions as any spell at Hogwarts. You may use it at need, particularly in an emergency, but you are no more to abuse this ability than any other. Now Harry, I want to make absolutely clear to you... you have a fondness for disregarding rules from time to time, either going somewhere you are not supposed to be, or going walkabout after curfew or at forbidden times. If you use this ability to give yourself advantage in rulebreaking, I will consider that abuse. Penalties for using Blink during other misbehavior will increase the seriousness of the offense and its consequences significantly. Is that CLEARLY understood, young man?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Harry nodded soberly.

"Very well then," Albus returned to his typical demeanor of friendly smile and twinkling eyes. "I find myself wondering if this is not related in some way to the kind of transport used by House Elves. They neither apparate, nor trigger the wards against such travel. Many use the gesture of snapping their fingers, but I've seen that it is not strictly necessary. Is there anything else that any would like to add?"

Severus and Minerva shook their heads, as Pavel said only, "I just want to encourage everyone to be open to learning more as we go along. Harry, I would like to keep this as private as possible for the moment. Your ability to escape from a threatening situation makes me very happy. So I really don't mind if you 'practice' at times and in places where you will not be observed by others. At the same time I will take it very seriously indeed, if you 'abuse' this ability doing mischief. When you use this, I want to know... or I want you to tell Ivan. And be prepared to justify its use, all right?"

"That's fair, Papa. So, it's ok to practice, when I'm not observed, right?" Harry wanted to double check.

"Yes it is, as long as you are very careful..." Pavel looked sideways at his colleagues, "Is that acceptable to all here?"

Minerva answered, "Yes, bearing in mind the warnings about mischief."

"Agreed," echoed Severus.

"Thanks!" Harry beamed.

"Bloody brilliant!" Ron admired quietly.

Pavel just closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, wearing a resigned expression.

"Well!" Albus barked, clapping his hands softly, "what say we adjourn in favor of some refreshment then?" as everyone rose, and furniture moved to less formal setting. "I think that takes care of all my concerns. Children, have fun."

The children excused themselves to talk in Harry's room, as the grownups moved towards the fireplace and a tray of beverages and desserts appeared before them.

* * *

Severus cleared his throat once they were alone, and all eyes shifted to yield him the floor.

"I've a couple of matters to discuss, or at least mention, since we seem to have a moment of comparative peace," he began, as he bypassed the tea and desserts, moving straight for a couple fingers of firewhiskey. "The children's detention is coming to what seems to be a very effective conclusion. Mr. Weasley's grades have improved dramatically, it seems that Mr. Potter actually has some talent for potions that I feel should be exploited, and Ms. Granger may well inspire our 7th years to perform above their typical mediocre standard. I truly hope that having been a bit restricted in their bedtimes, learning to rise at a reasonably early hour, and being held accountable for consequences appropriate to their shenanigans will have some lasting effect on their demeanor..." and he added in an undertone, "though I'll not hold my breath on that."

Everyone chuckled, as Pavel responded, "I, for one, am truly grateful Severus. For I know it's been a sacrifice for you to tutor them every day before dawn, and that without a word of thanks from them, I'm sure."

"Actually, to be honest," Severus chuckled, "they HAVE thanked me. Surprising though it's been, each of them have done so from time to time, when they succeeded at something they didn't think they could do. One of them... or all, I'm not sure... has consistently arranged for my favorite tea and biscuits to arrive at 6:45 without fail. None have owned up to who... but neither have I pressed the matter.

"I just thought I'd mention this because I think they are all capable of more than they think, or than we typically expect, and I'd hate to see them return to careless ways when the detentions end, next week. And there's another matter I wanted to discuss with all of you..." Severus took a healthy gulp of his drink before continuing.

"I have offered to mentor Draco Malfoy, in that I am his godfather, in the interests of altering the current trajectory of his life and attitude from the smarmy little elitist aficionado of the Dark Arts he's shaping up to be, diverting him into a more productive and wholesome lifestyle."

Severus just let this announcement hang out there in the air, as all but Pavel tried to digest it, and deal with their shock.

Albus was the first to recover. "Well done, my boy, well done! My goodness, but you've set a bit of a task out for yourself. I think that's absolutely wonderful! Lucius Malfoy is a cruel, powerful, conniving dark wizard and I feared his son would have no option but to follow his path. But it is clear to anyone with eyes that Draco thinks the world of you, and if you can raise him as a young man of character, it could make all the difference in the world. Just tell us how to support your efforts, mi'lad, and I for one am at your service."

Minerva managed to find her voice at last, saying, "You'll have to forgive me, Severus, but I'm struggling a bit with seeing you in the role of a surrogate father! What's gotten in to you? Don't get me wrong, now. I've no doubt of your ability or dedication to succeed at anything, anything at all, that you set your mind to. I've honestly never known a more capable or competent wizard, in either intellect or determination. If you've decided that you will parent that boy well... that is precisely what you will do. I've no doubt at all.

"But by the same token," she continued, "your temperament is anything but paternal. And I simply cannot imagine what can have brought you to such a decision. Delighted I am, indeed. But confused, or at least a bit... puzzled. Beyond that, like Albus... just tell me how we can help."

Snape leaned back with a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I wish I knew. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea. I'm a good Head of House, an excellent teacher, and I dance around the Dark Lord on a regular basis... but how to gain the trust and loyalty of a 12 year boy... That's a different matter. The closest I've ever been to understanding true 'family', has been in this room. I think eventual success will lie in somehow bringing Draco in line with 'Solidarity'... Merlin help us all!" he said, as his lips curled in an ironic almost smile.

"That sounds like a plan!" John offered. "I don't think it will be all that hard, sir. He's competitive, rides a broom well, loves to duel, and if I'm not mistaken, he may be capable of a bit of mischief from time to time. He seems bright, and able to carry off his studies, so... I think, given some time... we might find a way or two to interest him in some of our typical activities. In fact, Severus... you duel a bit, don't you?"

"Not generally, no. Not as a sport, anyway. Circumstances have often dictated otherwise, however."

"I think we can all relate to that. Still, I've seen you coaching on Tuesday and Friday nights. You're not half bad, for a cauldron jockey. I mean, I thought of you as sort of a 'Poindexter', you know? Laboratory type. Not a lot of flying, athletics, sweaty stuff. But that was entirely misleading. You're not half bad in a scrap!"

"Your praise overwhelms me, sir..." Severus replied, sarcasm dripping from his velvet voice.

"Think nothing of it, my anfractuous friend. I have a thought on how to draw Draco to the light side, making full use of your covert talents." John smiled, with a look his father knew only too well.

"Do I need to excuse myself?" Pavel asked politely.

"No, Papa," John laughed. "But thank you for asking. I'm not about to propose anything that will get me in trouble... this time. I think Severus and I can simply make some adjustments that will bring the children together a bit more." Everyone looked at John with renewed interest. "On Tuesday and Friday evenings, we all help coach dueling in the Gymnasium, yes?" Everyone nodded. "We all know how much Draco and Harry enjoy sparring against one another. I think we can promote further interest in dueling skill by sparring against one another, particularly you and I, Severus. Just as we tutor Harry, Ron, and Hermione in dueling... particularly Harry on Wednesday evenings - for his protection, so you could begin to tutor Draco. Ultimately, we can combine these sessions, and they can all learn from our combined talents.

"I think perhaps we should open our Wednesday night sessions to an "Advanced Class" of students. I'll design a skill test so that any student from any House may enter, and we will continue to teach advanced techniques. You, Severus, may tutor Draco and help him improve his fighting skills, and Wednesdays we'll all work together. I suspect that if you and I spar against one another... truly extending ourselves... say, not permitting any permanently damaging spells or illegal spells... but anything else permitted, including your tactical use of potions, broomless flight, whatever... I think we could prompt a bit of rivalry between Harry and Draco."

Severus looked confused, "I'm not sure that requires much prompting at all, John. Why do we want to do that?"

"Because I think they would each see us doing things they want to learn, and I think they'd start exchanging information. They enjoy dueling with one another, granted. But they're also both such quick studies, that I think they'd enhance one another's technique. Furthermore, I think it would take very little prompting to get the two of them to start pranking US."

"Draco wouldn't DARE!" Severus began, in a huff.

"No, no, no... you don't get it, Sev. We WANT them to! We want them to come up with the idea of collaborating on some project or other against us. Hopefully, nothing more than a harmless prank. Once they start conspiring together, especially if they get caught once in a while and suffer some painless but annoying penalty together... they'll bond. Once they bond enough that they WANT to hang out together as family with all of us... we're 90% there! We simply need to get Draco to WANT to join Solidarity!"

Pavel quietly nodded as he smiled off to the side of this discussion.

"Don't tell me you AGREE with this, Paul?" Severus looked over incredulously.

"Absolutely! It's brilliant. It is a very subtle and generally successful, way to make the transition from enemies, through frenemies, to friends, to brothers... if it goes far enough. For years I bonded combat and intelligence teams together by giving them myself as a common enemy, and then applying consistent pressure to them for task completion, and suffering for shortcomings... within a very short time, they become a cohesive unit. What's more, when they come out the other side of the experience, they value my training and treasure me as their ally and mentor.

"Ivan is not proposing precisely that here, but he's making use of the same principles. I think the two boys are already forming a foundation of mutual respect... even perhaps... affection. I agree that in combat training they would develop camaraderie, especially if they saw themselves pitted in a battle of wits against us as adults. Solidarity could be the making of Draco, especially as you continue to deal reasonably and consistently with his behavior." Pavel mused.

"Well, I'm certainly willing to give it a try. How do we start, then?" Severus asked.

"To start with, just ask Draco if he'd like you to coach him in dueling. It's nearly time for Friday night Dueling Club. Let's see if we can do some sparring ourselves, Sev. Let's 'bait your hook' as to tutoring Draco. Then see if in, say, a fortnight, we can get you and Draco joining us in the Gymnasium on Wednesday nights for some advanced technique."

"Sounds like a plan, then," Severus agreed, as Pavel rose and everyone gathered to head towards the Gym.

Harry was restricted to using his left hand for his wand, but few people noticed, and those who did, said nothing about it. John had been training Harry in gymnastics and weight coordination, along with "tricks of the trade" as to fighting.

* * *

One day, in training, John asked Harry, "How can you avoid being disarmed by _Expelliarmus_?"

Harry stopped to think... "Hold on tighter?"

"Try it! _En garde!_ And try to disarm me." and John drew down on Harry.

Harry's wand instantly came to his hand, as he stood defensively.

John cast a disarming charm of moderate strength, and Harry's grip resisted losing his wand.

Harry riposted with a disarming bolt of his own, but John had changed positions and the strike glanced off his hand.

John's next shot was stronger and ripped the wand away from Harry's fingers, sailing it across the room.

John stood still and motioned for Harry to regain his wand, and take his best shot to disarm John. John even held his right hand out away from his body and stood still so Harry couldn't possibly miss.

Harry got off a blistering _Expelliarmus!_ jerking John's wand and hand backwards, whereupon John lifted his feet and let the momentum carry him back as he remained attached to his wand, ready to respond whether in midair or upon landing.

"Now, Harry. You watched that. Your spell was powerful enough to throw me back, yet I retained my wand. Think, Little Brother. How did that happen?"

"You held on tighter than I can?" Harry guessed.

"Nope, that's not it. What else might I do? What else can YOU do to keep your wand from flying away from your hand?" John prompted.

Harry closed his eyes for a number of seconds, then opened them with a new thought... "What about a Sticking Charm? What is it again..." Harry paused to reflect and recall... " _Adhaero!"_ he called out, staring at his wand in his hand. He then opened his grip and tried to drop his wand, which remained stuck fast in his palm.

"There you have it, Harry! Well done! Now... a singular caution with that technique..." John called out, as he flicked a strong _"Expelliarmus"_ at Harry... sending the boy sailing backwards through the air. "You want to be careful how strongly you adhere the wand to your flesh. A strong enough bolt to disarm could either rip the wand - and flesh - from your palm, or... rip your arm from your shoulder if your feet are stuck fast... or throw you boldly backwards like that, if the spell is not narrow-focused on just your wand. Now... one reason I have you practice gymnastics and tumbling as a martial art, is that you may need to regain balance and footing if your body is thrown backwards. The safest thing is to put a moderated _'Adhaero'_ on your wand, strong enough to secure it, but weak enough that the bond will release before you are damaged... and have a rapid _'Accio'_ ready if it is torn from you. Better that, than risk injury."

"John? I just thought of something. What about changing mass, changing weight, if I'm thrown back? The impact, the crash, is a function of my weight, right? So, just like flying, if I use _'Levicorpus'_ , or a _'Wingardium Leviosa'_ to reduce my weight, then can I 'float' back to ground instead of crashing?"

"Very good, Harry. The answer is 'yes and no'. Certainly, adjusting your mass will affect how you land. But it also adjusts the impact of the spell itself against you. Drop your mass too quickly, while the bolt is in effect, and you become a feather in a hurricane. The force has already hit you, so you want to adjust mass just before landing, so that your full mass stabilizes you a bit while you're being tossed. That kind of adjustment takes tremendous practice and experience."

Harry laughed, thinking about it, "But you DO that sometimes, don't you? I've seen you do it, now that I think about it. You always land on your feet like a cat. That's how you're doing that, isn't it?"

"Yes," John admitted. "I do a little of that sometimes. But mostly that's just gymnastics. I am, rather, landing like a cat. I keep my head steady and oriented, and force my posture to compensate for the physics of being thrown. It's a little bit 'magic', but it's mostly just hours of practice at tumbling and gymnastic exercise, especially while casting. You'll get it. It becomes second nature."

Since then, Harry had been experimenting with combining charms that enhanced his own abilities, with the dueling casts of offensive and defensive spells used on an opponent. As his skills improved, Pavel had him practice his wandcraft with his off hand, and using the right for shields and defense. This had become more important to them particularly after the bludger incident. You could never be sure you always had the use of your right hand, and your life could depend on alternate casting methods.

* * *

On this particular Friday night, Severus and John squared off in the center lane just as students began to file in. They had agreed to the same terminate condition as the students, either victory by immobilizing the opponent, or the vanquished yielding. Professor Lockhart served as referee as Pavel discretely maintained a shield surrounding the lane, lest any stray cast endanger a bystander.

Students were utterly flabbergasted as the bout began and pyrotechnics splayed towards one another with reckless abandon. The youngsters had never seen two expert duelists have at one another in full strength sparring mode. A very few, here or there, had observed actual combat from time to time... like Harry, or some of the offspring of Death Eaters. A few seventh years had bare recollections of the Wizarding War 10 years ago, when they may have witnessed combat while tucked away as toddlers in a hiding place as their parents defended their homes.

John activated no vampiric abilities, and Severus used no potions or broomless flight, as the two of them simply exchanged spells, hexes, curses, and used such shielding as they could maintain while doing it. No deadly or forbidden casts were used. In fact, they even refrained from hexes of serious injury. While they could have healed from them, there was just no need for that. They did, however, use hexes that could induce pain or numbness... as those factors contributed mightily to the decision of whether to yield or not.

Pavel had to smile and shake his head watching this. He was coming to love Severus as any of "his boys", as he thought of his many trainees and former colleagues, and John was already very attached to the dour potions master. They were both just as competitive as hell, though they'd never admit it in a million years. They had no desire to hurt one another, but they both desperately wanted to win... so it was interesting watching what combat choices they made in the lane. The two of them were extending themselves to their very limits, with flashes of light, fire, slashing of projected weapons, mists... almost anything conceivable issuing forth from their wand tips.

Students observing from the fringes were mesmerized, never having seen nor imagined such a display of combat and hurtful magic. Both men had stripped down to shirts and breeches, and Pavel had insisted that they wear vests to protect from simple impact injuries. They'd both rolled their eyes at the instruction, which he judiciously ignored, but they acceded to the request. Every third or fourth cast, one or the other of them would send a stinging hex, or a bludgeoning blow along, trying to bypass the other's shield. Only the barest of audible grunts marked the moments when one of those hit home. Both combatants were now covered with a light sheen of sweat, as they'd probably not so exerted themselves for a very long while.

Ultimately, Severus decided on "surprise" as a novel tactic, and rather than hexing with damage or pain, decided to see if confusion would do the trick. Suddenly he threw three spells in quick succession... _"Avis!"_... _"Everte Statum!"_... and _"Incarcerous!"_ John was utterly undone as a mystical flock of birds suddenly flew at him from all directions, as his balance was taken and he felt himself pushed off his feet, and then ropes materialized around him and pulled tight. He fell over in slow motion, wand still in his hand, as he honored Severus yelling out... "I yield!"

He was still laughing on the ground as Snape aimed his wand and entoned, _"Finite Incantatem!"_

Severus walked to him, hand extended to help him up. "Well played, my sinuous friend. We'll see who comes out on top in our next match!"

"Anytime, kind sir. Anytime," Severus laughed as together they walked off the lane.

Both Harry and Draco had just stood dumbstruck watching their two coaches go at it hammer and tongs. Draco had leapt with a cry of joy at Snape's victory, utterly ignoring Harry's glare. The two of them stalked off to get some practice and advice in from John and Severus, before the formal session began, and they had to settle down for the faculty to attend to everyone and assure safety. Harry had been threatening bloody mayhem upon Draco, to avenge John's honor... when John laughingly calmed him down, declaring he'd not had such fun in a long time. Snape had begun seriously to coach Draco when time permitted, and knew it was his dearest wish to prevail over Potter one of these nights.

"If you can take down Master Constantine so handily, Godfather," Draco effused, "perhaps it's my night to beat Potter!"

"Perhaps, Draco," Severus laughed, "but don't get so fixated on offense that you neglect your shields. You're coming along very well, and I expect you will both be excellent duelists very soon. But defense is just as important as offense, and balance is more than just keeping your feet. Perhaps before long we can see about practicing together more often. We'll see."

The rest of the Dueling Club night went well, as Gryffindor got to foreshadow tomorrow's Quidditch Match, being paired off to compete with Hufflepuff House. Draco and Harry had no chance to duel against one another, settling on trading glares from time to time, instead.

Ultimately, curfew approached with no injuries among students, as all headed peacefully towards their own Common Rooms for the night.

* * *

 **Midnight, Later That Same Night:**

Fred and George thought they had a perfect opportunity to raid Mr. Filch's Contraband Drawer, as Filch and Mrs. Norris were patrolling the Library and upstairs corridors. Of course, the students Papa ever caught out of bounds always felt he used an unfair advantage - in fact, that he "cheated" - being able to transform into nearly limitless animal forms to track them down. On this particular night, Papa was patrolling in one of his favorite forms... a great gray wolf. He always liked to begin his patrol nights, especially in wolf form, at the Gryffindor portrait, and then the Slytherin portrait. If anyone tried any adventure, the scent trail would begin at the portraits and then lead him to their eventual destination.

Tonight, Pavel caught the distinct aromas of the Twins, following their trail down the dungeon stairs towards Filch's catacombs. He paused a moment on the stairs to inquire whether Ivan wanted to join him, as they both enjoyed the irrepressible personalities of Fred and George and, in fact, sought to encourage their creativity and care in crafting pranks or executing harmless mayhem. They weren't sure if Ron contributed to their plans with his methodical tactical skills, or they thought these up all on their own, but given greater attention to detail, the Konstantyn's considered the Twins potentially bound for either an impressive career of law enforcement, or criminal activity in their adult lives.

John happily joined Pavel at Filch's doorway in lupine form, as they padded silently into the office taking positions behind Fred and George as the youngsters tried various opening spells on the Caretaker's warded filing cabinet drawers. Their efforts were illuminated by only the barest degree of Lumos spell, so the furry wizards found it very little challenge to ease their way to opposite corners of the room and remain in darkness as they began, ever so softly, to growl... There is little so nerve-shattering as to be utterly focused in concentration on breaking into a locking charm, and begin to "feel", more than initially to "hear", the low-throated rumble of a deadly canine snarl coming from utter darkness. The wolves increased their volume, resonating through the chamber with echoes that made locating the source of the sound difficult. The boys whipped around, wands drawn defensively, but still unable to see the threats that were crouched close to the ground meters away from them. Muzzles open in what were now vicious snarls, hackles raised, eyes flashing red against the darkness as their retinas glinted in the dim wandlight... the boys spotted the threat and shot off "Stupefy!" towards each of them.

The spells flashed harmlessly against shields covering the wolfen mages, as the room's lights were activated and all was exposed. A moment of shock looking at their adversaries petrified the boys... until both Pavel and John transformed back into their human personnae. The boys quickly lowered their wands, as Pavel and John stood there before them smiling.

"Aw... shite..." Fred muttered, as George just nodded.

"That was wicked, sirs... Totally unfair! But really impressive!" George complimented, as the Weasleys put away their wands.

"So true," Fred nodded in agreement. "We um... we got a bit turned around in the dark. A bit lost, we were..." he started, trying to find a script that would explain their presence here.

"Gentlemen," Pavel raised a hand, shaking his head slowly as he smiled and said, "I caution you not to add 'lying' to your current misfortunes. You are out of House past curfew. You are in an unauthorized area. You have been apprehended attempting theft from a secured storage of staff. And you've used unacceptable language to faculty. Do you really want to make the situation worse?"

"Professor, I would respectfully submit that my expletive was spoken to my brother, not to you gentlemen. And at the time, we did not know we were faced with faculty, but rather life-threatening beasts. Certainly, had we known that was you, I'd have been far more respectful in my speech, not to mention refraining from attacking you" Fred rapidly offered in their defense with all the oily charm of a quick witted used broom salesman.

John nodded, "He makes a good point, Professor. We wore no robes, badges, nameplates, nor other means of identifying ourselves."

"Trust to you to defend these hooligans!" Pavel growled in mock consternation, casting an amused glare at his son. "Very well then," he turned back to the Twins, "I shall hold you blameless for the cussing and attacks. Have you any defense... any TRUTHFUL explanation for your presence here right now?"

"No, sirs..." they echoed, knowing better than to push their luck.

"Then you have a choice. Do you wish to accept correction from me? Or would you rather we go see your Head of House to deal with this matter?"

Pavel and John, being free of encumbrance or bias of one house against another, had been granted the option of either dealing directly with student misbehavior, or referring it to the appropriate Head of House. They had found the most appealing option to be leaving such choice up to the student. Konstantyn punishments could vary so widely and were so unpredictable, most students preferred to "roll the dice" and see what their sentence was. In general, however, Gryffindor and Slytherin students tended to prefer not to be referred to their Heads of House. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, sometimes did.

On this occasion, knowing from Ron and from open discussions with their friends that "stealing" was considered a rather serious infraction to the Professor, they considered taking the referral to Professor McGonagall. "Professor? You say 'go see your Head of House'... You mean tomorrow morning, right?"

"No, George. I mean right now." Pavel answered.

"But sir, it's after midnight. Surely she would be asleep by now."

"Indeed. Well spotted. That is most likely the case, yes."

"But, sir, you wouldn't want to wake her up in the middle of the night, just to deal with us, would you?"

"That's quite true, George. I certainly wouldn't WANT to... however, since this happens to BE the middle of the night, and right now is when you've chosen to break the rules, it wouldn't so much be MY choice to wake her, as it has been yours. If you prefer the Professor's judgment over my own, I'm afraid we'd need to go see her now, regrettable though it would be to wake her.

"So... what would you gentlemen prefer, hmmm?" Pavel crossed his arms, wearing his most solicitous smile.

 _"You can be a very cruel git at times, you know that, Papa?" John mind-spoke to him with a hearty laugh._

 _Pavel laughed back, responding... "That's 10 minutes when you get back home, my son."_

"Yes, sir," John spoke aloud with a chuckle and a slight bow of the head.

The boys looked at one another with an expression of resigned defeat. "We'll submit to your judgment, sir," Fred volunteered.

"Ah, very good. Please meet me at the front gate of the Castle immediately after you eat breakfast in the morning." Pavel started to head out to continue his circuit of patrol.

"But, sir!" George squeaked, "There's Quidditch tomorrow! Couldn't we see you after the game is finished?"

"Not at all, gentlemen. The task I have in mind should not prevent your enjoyment of the match, though you may need to move along quite smartly to finish in time. On the bright side, however, you should have a lovely gift for your father when you finish, and could possibly turn the experience into a useful Extra Credit Report for your Muggle Studies class. Now... be back in Gryffindor Tower in the next four minutes - I shall check. And we will see you in the morning. Rest well, Gentlemen!" and Pavel spun on his heel as his cloak billowed out, masking his transformation back into wolfen form, and silently he padded down the corridor.

The boys started to hustle out the door right behind John, as Fred asked, "Master Constantine, do you have any idea..."

"None, whatever, boys. However, having stood in your shoes countless times, and hearing instructions like that, I just advise you not to wear your best clothes, and arrive ready to work in the morning. Whatever you'll be doing, you'll have to hustle to make it to the match, for sure." John replied. "You now have 220 seconds to be inside Gryffindor Common Room. I'd get a wiggle on, if I were you. He really WILL check, and you don't want disobedience piled on in the morning."

"Righto! 'Night, sir!" George called, as the two of them bolted quickly and quietly down the hall.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	5. Landscaping

**Landscaping**

Saturday dawned cold and blustery, but no rain had fallen as yet. Still, it was clear that winter was waking, stretching her limbs, sending off autumnal elves scurrying to make her preparations. The children woke promptly at 6:00 in their dormitories, cleaned and dressed in their academic uniforms, and met for one of their last predawn detention meetings.

Professor Snape met them at his classroom, got Hermione started on her project, and the boys started on their book work. He had taken Harry's assignments deeper than just the text and chapter questions, beginning to prompt more independent study and exploration of principles of interaction and potentiation. Hermione was thrilled to find that Potion #1 of her two Polyjuice Concoctions was complete and ready to decant. She told Professor Snape that she planned to have her essay and presentation notes ready for his review by tomorrow.

Tea and biscotti arrived at about the time Snape dismissed Hermione, so he sat at his desk in the classroom correcting homework while the boys finished their assignments. At 7:10 he dismissed them, knowing they'd want to change for quidditch before breakfast, satisfied as he perused their work, that they were concentrating much better than they used to. They may yet make half-decent alchemists.

At about the time the children were arriving at the potions classroom, Pavel was making a brief trip to the Chalet - or rather, to the Woodshed of the Chalet - to pick up some tools he kept there in stasis, preserved from rust or other environmental degradation. He smiled, recalling the occasions on which Ivan had made use of these, and it pleased him to know he would be bequeathing them to Arthur Weasley, who - he was sure - would find periodic use for them, as well as appreciate the simple elegance of their muggle manufacture and function.

Pavel had considered notifying Danylo, his house elf butler, of his pending arrival, but thought better of it knowing the elf would have prepared breakfast and triple-cleaned the house for his comfort. There seemed no point putting him to all that trouble, since he didn't plan even to enter the house. But his surreptitious plans on simple burglary were overturned by Boris and Odessa, who heard the tools and equipment shifting in the shed. They barged through the doors, hackles raised and snarling, only to skid to a sliding halt with puppy-like squeals of delight as they recognized their intruder.

"BAH!" Pavel had to exclaim as instantly he flashed a force shield before himself to protect his clothing from the hounds' damp and muddy pawprints. Quickly he wanded a coverall onto himself so that he could pet them and greet them properly, though they were disappointed in the extreme to learn he was not staying nor would he romp with them, but he would permit no whining if they were to remain with him as he packed and prepared for transit. They understood perfectly that they were to be silent, or go back outside. Silent, they sat. Not happy, but silent. Kindly, he gave them one last good hug and pet, as he secured the shed once again and blinked back to Hogwarts with his "haul" in tow. Banishing the muddied coveralls, he tucked the materials in a corner of the greensward just outside the Hogwarts entrance, and went for his morning constitutional down to the Black Lake and back.

* * *

Breakfast at the Gryffindor table where Ron, Harry, and Hermione typically sat was abuzz this morning with the comical circumstance of Fred and George trying to wheedle information out of Ron and Harry, without admitting they'd been caught last night.

"So... Harry? I've got this hypothetical 'what if' question for you..." Fred began.

George carried on, "If you were in trouble with the Professor, and... um... he told you not to wear your best clothes..."

"And to meet him outside at a certain time..." Fred continued.

"What would that be about?" George completed.

Harry was far too quick a study to fall for this game. Delightedly he guessed, "You guys got nailed for a detention with Papa! Wow! What'd you do? And was he mad, or was he laughing?"

"Never mind what we did, we don't have much time..." Fred said.

"Just... what are we in for?" George finished with some urgency.

"I have no idea," Harry answered honestly. "He seems never to do the same thing twice, and not even John knows what to expect from a detention or a 'little chat'. A lot really depends on what you did, and whether he'd consider it dangerous or harmful."

Fred and George shook their heads, "No, nothing like that."

"OK, then he wouldn't probably be angry. So, I think he gives chores, from what John has said. Like when Professor McGonagall had us clean the owlery. That's the kind of punishments he normally gives, unless something was stupid dangerous. Then the penalty can be more... uncomfortable, I understand. So give, already... what'd you guys do?"

Figuring they'd wind up telling or being told on anyway, the twins recounted the evening's adventure, adding, "It's totally not fair, by the way. I mean curfew breaking is an ancient and honored tradition, and faculty are supposed to be HUMAN!" George opined.

"The ghosts don't tell on students, and tattle to faculty. So having a professor who patrols as a wolf?!" Fred continued.

"I mean, that's just not FAIR! That's breaking all the rules of student/faculty relations!" George concluded.

"Well, I'm sure if you feel so strongly about it, you could complain to the Headmaster!" Hermione giggled.

In the meantime, all this conference was being observed from the Head Table.

John and Pavel had shared the story of their nocturnal meanderings with Minerva, who thoroughly enjoyed their description of the twins' initial concern at the apparent disembodied growling from the darkness.

"Serves them right, the troublemakers! At least they had the decency not to disturb my night's sleep. That was kind of them," she smiled, nodding.

"I believe but for the late hour, they might have taken House punishment rather than Papa, however. They looked pretty intimidated as he listed their charges." John reported.

"So I gather no further intervention will be called for on my part, eh?" Minerva inquired.

"I think not, dear lady. The two of them should be effectively re-educated by the end of the morning," Pavel replied. "Whether this yields any true attitude adjustment or not is an open question. But they will be assured of our assertive disapproval of such behavior by the time they finish."

"Papa is nothing if not a master of extortion," John laughed.

"Ivan!" Pavel interrupted, in a tone of affront, "how could you say such a thing? You cut me to the quick!"

"Uh, huh! Not a chance, Papa. You know darned well, you're giving them a choice between pleasure and pain." John laughed.

Minerva was confused, "I don't understand. What's the punishment?"

Pavel chuckled, "As a great man once said, 'Come and see'. But this is nought but some simple maintenance for the Castle," and looking up, he saw the twins heading out to the entrance. Being finished with breakfast, he rose to join them, followed by John and Minerva... and followed at a more discrete distance, by Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

* * *

"Gentlemen!" Pavel began, using his parade ground voice as the boys walked towards the canvas covered pile of equipment outside at the corner of the entrance grounds grass. "Thank you for being timely. This morning you have the opportunity not only to atone for your misdeeds of last night, but also to earn some prized muggle artifacts that I understand your father collects. Not only will you earn their ownership, but you will also be able to explain and even demonstrate their use with expert accuracy."

So saying, Pavel swept the canvas cover off of the display, to show... A manual lawn mower, in perfect showroom condition, circa 1960; a wheelbarrow, and a spring rake with a wide fan shape.

"Oh, no..." John laughed, as his father had not revealed to him his plans for the boys.

"Ah!" Pavel brightened, "Do I hear my son volunteering to show you how these operate?"

"No, sir! Not at all. Sorry, Professor!" John laughed, bowing in submission.

"Very well, then. Your task, gentlemen, is to give this lovely lawn what will probably be its last trim for the season, before it becomes covered in snow. You are to cut this entire flat surface, both in the enclosure here and outside the outer gates. This mower works by mechanical force, you push the handle and machine forward, the wheels spin the cutting blades... simple. The other of you will rake the grass to an edge of the field, and then deposit it in the wheelbarrow for Professor Sprout to use as mulch for the winter. In that there is about one acre of grass here to be cut and raked, I suspect you will have to keep up a running pace, if you wish to attend the Quidditch Match. That will be up to you. Whenever you are finished, you may join your classmates or take up other activities. If you are not finished by noontime dinner, you may stop to eat, and then return to your task. You may break for calls of nature or drinks, as you wish. How long this takes is entirely up to you. Any questions?"

The boys just kept staring at what seemed an "ancient" machine, aghast! "But... but, sir... this is as big as a football field! You're talking about hand running this thing all over this whole lawn?"

"Ah, very good! Yes, you grasp the task perfectly! As I say, if you run... and if you trade off places to preserve and recover your strength... I believe you can just make it to the Quidditch Match at 11:00, or at least quite soon thereafter. Of course, that may depend on how soon you start, or how long you choose to stand here arguing with me. I assure you, there's no point. My son is very well acquainted with this task. It goes without saying, of course, that there will be no magic permitted to assist in its completion. Is all this clear?"

"Yes, sir..." they nodded miserably.

"Good! Then have fun, boys!" Pavel called cheerily as he waved, turned his back, and returned to the warmth of the Castle. The rest of the observers diplomatically followed, leaving the boys to their fate. Hermione headed to the Library to get some of her studying done, until it was time to head to the Quidditch Pitch. Ron and Harry went to join the Team for their warm ups and drills before the competition.

Pavel, John, and Oxsana were relaxing for a while in Pavel's living room before joining the rest of the school at the match. About 45 minutes later, John nonchalantly asked Pavel, "Just to clarify... 'no magical assistance' on a punishment refers to helping by messing with the equipment or messing with the materials of the task itself, right? I mean, we can't use magic to keep the miscreant from actually doing all the work him or herself, right?"

"Yessss..." Pavel hissed slowly and carefully. He knew he was being maneuvered on, but he wasn't sure he objected. Clearly, John was plotting. Most likely, he was plotting some sort of assistance to the Weasley Twins. This gave him, Pavel, a choice. He could probably prevent John from aiding them, if he dug into this inquiry. But did he want to? He thought about this for a while. No, not really. The boys had accepted their consequences with grace, and John was a good judge of character. If he wanted to check on them, and decided they had earned some beneficence, he would not interfere. It was time for a 'blind eye to the glass' moment.

"Thank you, Papa. Please excuse me for a moment or two," John bowed as he made his way to the nearest window he could open, as he leapt out in Raven form.

John circled slowly over the Twins, watching for a few minutes as they raced back and forth across the assigned greensward. He could tell that despite their strength and speed, they were beginning to flag a bit. Where they had begun this task at a sprint, they had now had to settle into a jog. Metabolic muscle fatigue being what it is, muscles gave them little choice. By the same token, they weren't goofing off or giving in at all. He decided he'd help them, and landed behind a retaining wall to transform.

"Gentlemen, come here a moment," John instructed, taking from his pockets two metallic drink containers looking like commercial energy drinks available in muggle shops. "Here. Keep these with you. They are a tonic that will provide your muscles with the substrates they need, and purge them of the byproducts making you fatigued. They're rather akin to a 'Pepper up' potion, but designed specifically for muscular fatiguing endurance. My mother used to brew this for me, and slip it to me when I was in your shoes. It won't do the work for you... you still need to do that on your own, but it will keep you from having to slow down because of the soreness. These cans will never empty, so... you may want to keep track of them for future... erm... needs."

"Wow, thanks so much!" Fred said, guzzling a good dose of the tonic.

"That's really decent of you!" George agreed, doing the same.

"Don't drink too much at one time," John cautioned. "It's not like a steroid or anything, but it will hit you much harder than a sugar rush if you overdo it, and you won't be able to sit still at the game. So... get moving, and best of luck to you."

John hurried back to Oxsana and Pavel, ignoring his father's rolling eyes.

"They won't die from cutting grass, you know... " Pavel muttered, not even deigning to look up from his book.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Papa. Of course they won't. I didn't, did I?" John chuckled.

"No, but I could hardly convince your mother of that. She was sure you'd sprain your ankle, or strain your back, or pull a muscle... Nevermind the outrageous stunts you'd perform on a broom or leaping from branch to branch of our orchard's trees. For some reason, she remained convinced that you would only and ever injure yourself, when you were being punished," the memory made Pavel laugh to recall.

They almost never "argued", he and Iryna... but the closest they came would be over Ivan and his shenanigans. The boy had such a free spirit, Pavel would have reined him in much closer. Iryna saw this, and forced him to be systematic about rules and obedience. Pavel would sooner have corrected Ivan for doing things that were not specifically approved. Iryna chided until he agreed simply to correct Ivan for doing things that were specifically forbidden. There is a world of difference between the two, and Iryna felt that world belonged to childhood.

"Well, just consider me honoring family traditions on this," John chuckled.

"I see nothing. I don't know what you're talking about," Pavel nodded.

"Thank you, Papa."

"You're welcome, my son."

An hour or so later, they all headed for the Quidditch Pitch, walking in human form as students clustered about them. John excused himself to mount his broom and assist Madame Hooch with officiating. Oxsana took Pavel's arm as they entered the Headmaster's stands. Even though Pavel had gradually become known as Harry's guardian, he still maintained strict neutrality among Houses. He was utterly impartial as to awarding or dunning house points, or cheering for house teams. He did made an exception, however, about cheering for Harry when he made a good play. To attempt otherwise would have been cruel, both to Harry and to him.

Everyone attending thoroughly enjoyed the Quidditch Match. It never really "warmed up", but at least the afternoon saw some sunshine and proved a little less blustery than the morning had been. Unlike Gryffindor/Slytherin, that had all the charm of a World Cup Blood Match, Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor saw high spirits without the barely masked obscenities or inappropriate gestures exchanged. While play was energetic and spirited, this match lacked the "dirty tricks" tactics such as a flying wedge to drive your opponent into a pillar, or pit maneuvers to unseat another rider.

After a bit of discussion, Harry had agreed to "follow an open door" policy regarding tactics. While he knew lots of ways to fend off an opponent, perhaps even unseating them... he would not use any maneuver he did not see the other team use first. Because the Seeker is primarily a "watcher of the field", constantly scanning to locate the Snitch, there weren't many moves made by opponents that Harry didn't observe. He was also well aware of the risks of on-field retribution. All too often a referee fails to see the first illegal provocation, but turns just in time to see a response. Hence, the defender gets nailed for the infraction. Fortunately, there were few "penalties" in Quidditch, but still, Madame Hooch did have her limits.

Harry enjoyed competing against their Seeker, Cedric Diggory, a very good flier and not afraid to mix it up a little in the tight spaces. Cedric had the advantage on Harry in age, height, and weight, but Harry had greater agility and flat out broom skill. The biggest challenge was to find Snitch in the first place. Once Harry spotted it It was important not to give away its location. Cedric Could race On a straight flat trajectory as quickly as Harry could. Misdirection then was everything.

Both house teams traded goal points fairly evenly until the Hufflepuffs got into some sort of rhythm or synch that gave them 4 unanswered goals, for a 40 point lead. Then, while Cedric and Harry had been politely circling the field at an altitude just below the upper stands, Harry caught the glint of the Snitch across the field almost directly below Cedric, quite near the ground. Harry just continued in his slow circle, hoping Cedrick would do the same - which he did. Halfway along, when Harry could turn to straight on towards the Snitch, he started his dive. He dove straight at the Snitch, knowing Cedric would have to pull a turn AND dive, hoping this would give him enough of a lead. The Snitch, cursed evil little ball that it was, squirted towards Cedric immediately, almost resulting in a collision. That was narrowly avoided by the two of them rolling their brooms so their bodies passed outwards from the other.

Ultimately, Harry caught up with the Snitch, shifting from time to time as the ball tried to evade him, and trusted to his seat for control as he used both hands to trap the little winged beast.

Pavel closed his eyes and held his breath as he watched his boy dart across the Pitch using no hands to control his broom. _He mind-spoke, "Ivan! Have you been teaching him free handed flight?" in a tone of voice that implied very clear disapproval._

 _"Sir, I respectfully decline to answer on the grounds that I may incriminate, tend to incriminate, or lead to the incrimination of myself, sir," was the response._

 _"Ve vill discuss this later, my son. I've no objection to BROOMLESS flight, but I've no such tolerance for uncontrolled flight ON a broom! But your answer tells me I cannot blame Harry for this! Later on, you and I will chat."_

 _"Yes, sir," John laughed, watching the scoreboard reflect Harry's 150 point gain, and conclusion of the match._

Madame Hooch's whistle blew as she called out clearly, "Gryffindor WINS!"

At least, on this occasion, Harry got to enjoy the adulation of the team and his house, without having to head to the Infirmary for the celebration. He and Cedric exchanged handshakes and mutual admiration, as everyone had a good time and the 'Puffs took it all with good humor.

Pavel had noticed the arrival of the Weasley twins about 15 minutes into the match, as they saluted and bowed to him from the Gryffindor stands across the pitch when they took their seats. He smiled, with a nod and slight bow to acknowledging their obeisance with good will. He was actually pleased that they had arrived in time to enjoy the match, but equally pleased he had delayed them enough to disrupt their inveterate bookmaking enterprise relieving students of their pocket money.

Unlike all the excitement of the last match, everyone headed their way without particular fuss or bother. Luncheon was still laid out, buffet style, in the Great Hall awaiting latecomers from the game. There were no particular plans for the day, and Pavel looked forward to enjoying a quiet afternoon at home. Exams were starting the following week, so Hermione planned to spend time in the library studying, and Ron was going to hang out with the Gryffindors for the afternoon, then join Harry at home that evening. Harry had said after the celebrations he thought he'd just come home to hang out for a little while. Pavel looked forward to that. Ivan, he knew, would most likely spend the day with Oxsana, walking, riding brooms, or just sitting together near the Black Lake.

* * *

Later in the afternoon Pavel and Harry sat quietly before the fireplace reading. Pavel again held his favorite book of poetry, while Harry was making his way through the seventh chapter of his Potions text. Every once in a while he would look up vacantly, as if sorting information out in his mind. After an hour or so, Pavel asked Wilfried to bring some tea and cocoa, perhaps with some biscuits. Their refreshments were there almost instantly, and Harry got up to serve before Pavel could move. The old man watched Harry carefully prepare his tea with just the right amount of squeezed lemon, set his favorite pastries on a small plate, get a napkin and spoon, and bring it all to him without sloshing a drop. He was so pleased, not so much at being served... but at seeing the natural texture of Harry's servant heart. That was so hard to teach, and given Harry's young childhood of exploitation, it was a miracle he'd not lost the joy of service along the way.

"Thank you, my son. That was an excellent game today. Cedric gives you a bit of a run for your money, eh?" he chuckled, as he waited for Harry to serve himself and sit down, before drinking or eating himself.

"Oh, you bet! Cedric is a tough cookie. He's quick, strong and smart. Have you seen him duel? I wish we could get him training with us. He really knows his stuff in transfiguration and charms, too. His dad works with Mr. Weasley at the Ministry, and it's like the sun rises and sets on his boy!" Harry chuckled. "He gets so embarrassed when his dad's around, did you see him at the game today? It's funny to see him blush and try to get away!"

"I did. It is very hard for a father not to brag on sons he is proud of, you know. At least it is, for me!" and Pavel smiled with a piercing glance of his own twinkling eyes at Harry. He chuckled to see Harry blush and break off the exchange himself.

"Not to change the subject, but I wanted to ask you something, Papa..."

"No unaskable questions, son."

"I know, but I'm not sure about this one really. I don't want to upset you, but I'm very curious about something but when you talked about this before... well, it upset you. If you don't want to discuss this, I'd rather leave it alone than make you mad, ok?"

"OK, Harry. But I have no idea what you have in mind and I'm intrigued now. What do you want to ask?"

"Well, Papa. You, um, well... I know you like to teach, and you consider yourself a teacher. But at the same time, it's pretty clear that you're a warrior, an Auror, Inquisitor... all this other stuff, always focused on protecting the innocent, defending the right, and conquering the bad guys. You know?"

Pavel nodded, "Yes, I see what you mean. Go on..."

"Well, with the Ministry now, you are a judge. And I know that upset you a lot. Yet, I know you've been a judge before. And it just seems to me like that would be a PERFECT place to promote the good and eliminate the evil. I mean, you can really DO something about bad guys when you're a judge, right? So why wouldn't that be a 'good' thing, to your way of thinking? Now again, if you don't want to talk about this, that's ok, and we can go back to reading or talking about something else, ok?"

"Fair enough, young man. And again, let me apologize for my display of temper the other day. It was just unexpected, and was going to take me to a place I preferred not to go. But I should not have taken that out on all of you, and I'm truly sorry for that."

Harry laughed, "That's OK, Papa. Makes you human... to be truthful, I think I felt better... maybe all of us did, knowing that even you have normal feelings and can let 'er rip once in a while. Knowing you were upset didn't make me happy, but seeing you 'less than perfect' for once, didn't bother us at all! So don't worry about that!"

This really did make Pavel laugh. "Oh, my boy! I am SO far from perfect, you have no idea... but all right, I'll stop regretting that day. Now, I don't mind in the least answering your question, but it may take a bit of a 'lecture' to get there. Are you sure you want to know?"

Now it was Harry's turn to laugh. "Now I'm the one who's intrigued. I guess it depends on the lecture. Is it boring? Or is it a 'vonce upon a time' story?"

"Well, it's not a story, so I guess you'll have to tell me how boring this gets. Anyway, you actually hit upon the key issue as you asked your question. I am NOW... a 'teacher'. This is what I do, because this is what I want to do. This is actually why you've heard me claim that I do not 'punish' anymore. Even when I correct, even when I penalize someone, say... you... for wrongdoing... What am I really trying to get to? What is the 'completion' point, for me, of correction?"

"It's always the issue of 'would you do this again the same way'?" Harry answered.

"Correct! And all I am concerned with, by whatever means, is to bring you to a point where you would make a different decision in those same circumstances. That is, my task is 'preventive', or 'corrective', of the way you think or make a decision. THAT is what I now focus on.

"That is NOT what a Judge must focus on. As I Judge, I am sworn to uphold the 'Law', and dispense 'Justice'. The Law is a determined code specifying acceptable and unacceptable social behavior and, in complex societies like ours, violations have specific penalties attached to them. A Judge may have the authority and discretion to extend some leniency or severity for a given crime. But once a crime is committed, the only thing a Judge is interested in is what led UP to the commission of that crime, and what penalty is assigned for the seriousness of the crime. Judges will often take into account whether a defendant shows remorse for their wrongdoing, but the principal purpose of a trial is not 'teaching'.

"Harry, what would you say is the Purpose of the Law? In your own opinion, what do you look to the Law, Police, Courts, to do for you or for a society at large?" Pavel spoke in his 'classroom' voice, and waited, sipping his tea comfortably.

"Well," Harry pondered a bit, "I guess to 'protect people'. To 'protect the innocent'."

"Good, fine. Now, HOW does the Law, Police, Courts and such... how do they protect the innocent?"

"Well, they punish a bad guy, and maybe... usually... lock him/her up for some time," Harry answered.

"OK, so... is the public safe from that wrongdoer only while they are locked up? Or is there more to it than that?"

"No, there's more to it. There's the punishment, and hoping somebody learns not to do the crime anymore. Then, there's the fact that everybody knows that if you get caught breaking the law, then bad stuff will happen to you... like that," Harry said.

"Good. Now, right there, you have named three of the four traditional purposes of the criminal justice system, as recognized in classical jurisprudence. Jurisprudence is the study of the theory and ethics of law. The four traditional purposes are: Punishment/Retribution, Isolation, Deterrence, and Rehabilitation. That first element, Punishment/Retribution... we like those classier words to cover a feeling we have that may be a bit less noble - 'Revenge'. There is a part of the human heart that wants to avenge an offense. We call it 'retribution' instead, but it's the same thing... tit for tat... eye for an eye... getting even.

"In recent years, we've seen more of a movement towards 'rehabilitation', but given the rest of how the system stacks up against a person who has been in prison, it's a rum go any way around. But MORE interesting in recent years has been a new model of justice, one much closer to my heart, that eliminates 'Retribution" as a purpose, and replaces it with 'Restoration' instead. It's the attempt to bring the offender and victim to a place where the offender can see and experience remorse for the harm caused by the crime, and 'make things right' for the victim. Does all this make sense?"

Harry thought about it for a while, and said, "But, those four things... well, they don't really go together all the time, do they? I mean, it's like... they work against each other sometimes, don't they? Rehabilitation doesn't always agree with Retribution... or Isolation from the public... and what about Deterrence?"

"Ah, glad you asked. 'Deterrence' is aimed at OTHER potential wrongdoers. The punishment is to be swift, sure, and harsh enough to be off putting for anyone else considering the crime. You can see this all play out here in school, with punishments, can't you?"

Harry laughed, "Yes. And I'm beginning to see why you'd not enjoy having to be a Judge. You like to have a lot more leeway to teach with, don't you?"

"Perfect, Harry. Yes, that's precisely the problem. In correction, in discipline, I am concerned with only one thing... well, two things really. One, that the miscreant's heart and mind experience a change so that if given the same situation in the future, they would not make the wrong decision or take the wrong action. Two, if someone has been hurt, harmed, or offended by wrongdoing, that there be true remorse and... hopefully... sincere apology and opportunity for forgiveness by the offended person. Leaving someone in a state of bitterness or offense, is also harmful to them.

"The Law, or robotic legalism, is no help for me. I am far less concerned with responding to what someone was thinking, feeling, doing, BEFORE committing the wrongful act... as I design a consequence. I am far more concerned with how the heart and mind have been affected SINCE the wrongful act. We often learn to regret doing a wrong thing, after we see the affect our decision has had on others.

"Nowadays, I've been able to bring my life to where I can constantly teach and nurture. Sometimes, those lessons may be fun, sometimes... as you know..." with a sidelong look Harry's way... "not so fun. But I never have to care so much about the action itself, as what brought someone to the action, and the impact it has had afterwards. See?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully, sipping his cocoa.

"Now, when I mount the Bench, when I put on the silks... I lose that freedom. I shall have to confine judgments to what the Law permits of me. Now, the particular type of court I shall convene carries a great deal of discretion with it. And even were that not the case, to enforce the Law means that I am likely to face people who will not, in any circumstances, learn! There really are truly evil people, Harry. There are those who, given freedom in any degree, always have and always will exploit, hurt, harm, or kill others. At some point, the Law says they need to be incarcerated indefinitely, or be executed. That is a terrible thing to have to do, Harry. Pronouncing a sentence of death is a horrible thing to have to do... both because of taking this life by your words, and the realization that this will do nothing to restore the victims of this criminal. I am always struck by the profound waste of a death sentence. The waste of this life, and of all the time and good this person could have done, had they learned differently in their youth.

"You wanted to know what upset me the other day. You ask why I would not see being a Judge, sitting on the High Court Bench, to be an opportunity to do good protecting innocents from bad guys. Well, I do see that, Harry. To sit the Bench IS such an opportunity, and I shall do my best to render justice with both mercy and wisdom. BUT," and here Pavel smiled a rather sad, but gentle smile, "I will never believe that my time sitting on that Bench has NEARLY the value of my being here, or at a Military Academy, or at a training class for Aurors... anywhere I can work to shape, mold, and nurture the hearts, minds, and souls of powerful leaders, witches, wizards, and mages... so capable of great good, or great evil."

A quiet silence fell over the two of them, as Harry just absorbed all of this, holding his questions. Actually, he didn't have much in the way of question. He wasn't sure he completely understood everything Papa was saying, or certainly everything he was feeling. But he could tell that being a Judge, especially when the defendant was a really bad person, made Papa very sad. It was funny, how often people thought Papa angry, when actually he'd found he was sad about a situation. Harry put his cup down and walked over the Papa's chair, as Pavel did the same. Harry just put his arms up around Pavel's neck and climbed into the big oversized chair with him. Nobody was home but the two of them, so he didn't care if he was "too big" to sit in Papa's chair with him or not. He just wanted to feel the safety and strength of his arms around him, and nothing could have been more comforting to Pavel in that moment.

"Thank you, son," Pavel said, whispering into the top of Harry's unkempt mop of hair.

"You're welcome, Papa. You know, it's funny. I always think of power, strength, as being the important thing. Like, that if I were stronger, more powerful, I could do more good... protect more... fight the darkness... like that. But you're the strongest person I know, and I thought something like being a Judge would make you the strongest and most powerful you could be. Seems strange to think you can do more good here doing this, than there doing that. I thought... well, I guess it's like we talk about in class sometimes, I think I always thought... 'Might makes right.' But it doesn't does it?"

"Ah, would that it did, little man. Life would be so much simpler... Thank you for understanding," and together like that, totally relaxed, they fell asleep together until John and Oxsana arrived home to wake them for supper.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	6. Breakfast Club

**Breakfast Club**

It finally came. The last morning of 30 days' predawn detention! The children were a bit surprised to find Professor Snape standing invitingly at his laboratory door as he greeted them with a, for him, cheery, "Good morning, please come in."

They entered to find breakfast laid at a table with chairs, as he motioned the boys to be seated and walked to the Polyjuice Potion about to be completed with Hermione. They conferred for a moment or two, she turned over her journal for his perusal, he nodded and signed the last entry with a flourish, and directed her to wash her hands then seated her at the table.

He took his own seat as dish covers disappeared to reveal eggs, bacon, sausages, kippers, fried tomatoes, fried potatoes, and toast. Cups of hot chocolate and goblets of pumpkin juice stood at their right hands, as he said, "I felt this morning warranted some degree of celebration."

The three of them just sat staring at him and looking at one another, unsure whether to speak, eat, or even move.

"Well go on," Snape nearly chuckled, but not quite. "There are no potions or powders involved with this food! One or more of you have consistently provided me with tea and biscuits each morning. This seemed only fair. I also wanted to discuss this past month with you. I am interested in what you have learned in this time, and want to share what I hoped to achieve from it."

They began to serve, as the aromas prompted their appetites. Ron seemed to have overcome any misgivings, as he dished up his typical serving of hefty helpings of everything. Hermione was considerably more reserved, and Harry determined not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Hermione spoke first, "Well, Professor, I've actually learned lots from working on these potions with you. I have my presentation notes finished, and the essay you assigned. I'd really appreciate it if you could look over my notes and see if I've missed anything or if you have any other suggestions to make. I've never seen the 'art' side of potion making before. There's a subtle sense of 'blending' to ingredients, as a potion like this matures. That doesn't really communicate through a text or set of instructions. Also, the importance of how the initial ingredients are prepared. That is something I've seen anew, working with you, that class time didn't make as clear to me as it is now. I... oh, nevermind."

"No, go on, Ms. Granger," Snape encouraged. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, I wasn't sure if you'd take it wrongly, but... potions will be more 'fun' for me now. There's a kind of pleasure to seeing a potion come together rightly and turn out properly. I've noticed it in the potions we prepare in class. That's different for me now than when we first started," Hermione mused, sorting her plate so each item sat neatly in its proper place.

"I know what you mean," Snape nodded. "You're quite right, there's a sense of 'fit' when a potion comes together aright. And yes, it is pleasurable, what you could call 'fun'. It certainly is satisfying, and one of the reasons I most enjoy what I do, and even teaching what I do.

"Gentlemen? What about you? What, if anything, have you learned anew this month?" Snape looked at Harry and Ron, for once lacking any hint of sneer to his features.

Ron's mouth being full, Harry chose to respond. "Well, I really enjoyed making the potions for Mr. Filch. Thanks so much for your help on that. I feel like I'm really not that bad at potions. I just wish I could do class like I did here in the mornings. When it's just us here, well... um... I don't seem to mess up so much."

"You're really quite skilled, Mr. Potter. You could be Outstanding in Potions if you chose, you know," Snape replied as he cut through some sausage to dunk into egg yolk.

"Coulda fooled me," Harry muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Snape smiled.

"Professor, since we're sitting here like this, may I ask you something without you getting mad? I mean, is this a 'no unaskable questions' time, or not? I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I want to know something and can't think of a way to ask it that doesn't sound that way," Harry ventured.

"I hear your concern, Mr. Potter. All right, I understand you mean no disrespect, so ask your question. I may not be able to answer, but I'll not be offended or angered."

"Well, it was really frustrating sometimes last week, when I would do a perfect potion in the morning and you'd praise it, but then you'd be all over me in the afternoon, criticize everything I did, and then when the potion messed up you'd just give me a zero and banish it. It just seems so unfair if, as you say, I'm 'really quite skilled'."

"A fair question, Mr. Potter. I'll address it, and I'm not offended. First though, Mr. Weasley? What have you learned in the past month?"

Despite Ron's rapt attention to his plate, in part hoping to evade this discussion, everyone waited for him to join the conversation. "Well, sir, kind of like Harry, I've come to the conclusion that... well... I'm not a 'dunderhead', despite your comments. I can do this stuff, both the book work and the brewing, when I'm not having to deal with... erm... distractions."

At this, Snape actually sat back and smiled. The children knew no one would ever believe them if they told, but he could actually smile without making it look like a threat.

"All right, now let me ask you... Do you all feel I am 'unfair' with you in class, and you could do very well if you didn't have to deal with my badgering and harassment every class?"

The three of them stopped dead in astonishment at his question, Ron's hand even stopping halfway from his plate to his open mouth. They all put down their silverware to stare straight at him, as they said in unison, "Yes, sir."

"Very well. Now, you've asked me some very frank and straightforward questions. And I will respond to that. But may I then have your permission to speak in just as frank and straightforward a manner?"

They all nodded, though Hermione had some misgivings as she'd experienced his "frankness" before.

"All right. Now, you call me 'unfair' in the way I pick on you, and of course other Gryffindors as well, in class. In a sense that is true. But in another sense it is not. As you have gathered through our collaborations with the Konstantyns and other faculty, I hold a rather delicate political position with Slytherins and their families. It is important that I always be perceived as showing favoritism towards them, keeping their confidence in my allegiance to their values. Hence, I encourage and praise Slytherins, award housepoints and such, and treat all other houses... particularly Gryffindor... as contemptible. That... the favoritism shown in my style... is unfair.

"But let me ask you, do I ever fail to TEACH each student completely and properly? Do I give instructions one way to a Slytherin, but then neglect to answer a question the same way for a student from another house? Have I ever given you wrong or incomplete information or response to a question? Have I ever ignored your request for clarification? Have I ever delayed at your request to come check a potion or step? Do I ever fail to assure, to the best of my ability, that you understand the instructions or ingredients to a project? Have I ever ignored your making a misstep, and trying to correct it before a potion is irretrievable?"

"Well, no... not really, but..."

"But I'm not 'friendly' about it," he interrupted. "There's no 'warm and fuzzy' to it. No sense of approval or encouragement to my attention. Correct?" Snape finished for them.

"Now watch this! Here's a question that will surprise you, or rather, the answer will. Have I EVER, in all the time you've known me, given you an unfair grade?" At this, Snape focused on his plate again, leaving the children to think.

"Heck yeah!" Harry blurted! "Sorry, sir..." he modified, seeing Snape's eyebrow raise in response. "Lots of times. I've done lots of potions in class with everything going fine, and then you come around and make some smarmy comment to me or about my cauldron, and I slip stirring or put in the wrong ingredient because I get so rattled, and you make some sarcastic remark and banish the cauldron and I take a Zero. THAT's not fair... sir..." he added the honorific after a slight delay at the end of his comments, hoping he hadn't messed up this meeting.

Snape was unmoved by the disapproval in Harry's voice, but just continued to finish his bite of breakfast before responding. "So, Mr. Potter, let me get this straight. My manner to you caused you to lose focus and concentration, whereby you made a mistake, ruined the potion, and my giving you a zero for the ruined potion is somehow an unfair grade? Did or do I touch or interfere with your potion or cauldron in any way?"

"No, sir. It's not that, but..."

"Precisely. THAT's what I want you each to realize when we leave here today. Each of you, ALL of you, are capable of doing very very well in Potions. Ms. Granger, you are gifted. Mr. Potter, you have a real talent for this. And you, Mr. Weasley, are capable of doing consistently fine work, both written and practical, when you set your mind to it. Think back to when we handled the situation with Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Goyle. Please start to think of the difference between 'content' and 'context'. Just like that day, I am ALWAYS having to manage 'context' in a way that is unfair. I must always be perceived as showing favoritism to Slytherin House. There are very important reasons that is so, some of which you are becoming aware of. However, by the same token, I am a dedicated teacher and when you turn in quality work, you ALWAYS receive a fair grade for it.

"Think back to the day with Mr. Goyle and Mr. Malfoy. I said terrible things to you. I was intensely unfair with you. Yet, understanding that we were in a situation that required some subterfuge, you responded beautifully. You remained focused on the task, and my words did not affect you. Or at least I hope they didn't. What you haven't realized, what I'm trying to tell you right now, is that is what is going on EVERY day for me.

"Now, you three have a choice to make. I shall not change. I must not. I cannot. But up to now you've allowed my role, my context, to distract and discourage you from maintaining your focus and attention to detail. Every other professor you have here responds to your effort and the quality of your work with encouragement and approval. I must be a singular exception to that. I cannot reward your performance with classroom praise, or even what we'd consider common courtesy. I must continue to treat you, like all Gryffindors, with contempt. HOWEVER, hear this clearly, I can, I do, and I always have... rewarded good performance with good grades.

"Your choice is to learn to ignore my 'style', to tune out the context of our classroom interactions, and focus exclusively on the content alone. Remain focused, pay close attention to detail, ask questions when necessary and listen to the information in the answer, not the extraneous verbiage. If I come over and stare in your cauldron... laugh at me... at least internally, or imagine that I'm there to help you as I've done in these mornings. Don't let me throw you off. I'll be making the same insulting comments, but take it as a challenge to show me up! Do it perfectly to spite me! Because it is my actual DESIRE to see your potion succeed, and grant you an Acceptable or Outstanding for it. If you learn to treat every class like we did that day, you'll have an entirely different experience. Or, we can go on the way we have up to now. It's all up to you.

"All that goes for you, too, Mr. Weasley! You're a lazy student, sir. But, you're quite bright and if you set your mind to it I suspect you're a first class thinker. If you would steadily work at your projects, taking care step by step, you'd turn in consistently good work. Ms. Granger, don't work so hard trying to win the approval of your authorities. Pursue excellence because it is worth pursuing for its own sake... to gain your OWN approval of yourself!" And with that, Severus stopped speaking and focused on his meal, letting the children absorb all he'd just said.

Silence prevailed for a couple minutes as everyone focused on their meal.

"So..." Harry began, "You're suggesting that we sort of treat every day like that day we acted our parts?"

Snape thought this over for a moment. "Yes, I suppose so. I'm saying that I must always behave the way you've observed up to now. But it isn't personal, it's professional. I want you, just like the rest of my students, to succeed. But I've got to appear to show favoritism to Slytherin House."

"I still think it's unfair... sir," Ron mumbled.

"I don't disagree, Mr. Weasley. In fact, let me put this another way. You know that frustrating thing adults say from time to time... 'Life isn't fair!', right? - PLEASE don't roll your eyes!"

All three managed to obey this directive, but nodded energetically.

"Well, realize... that's simply TRUE! Now, 14 out of your 15 or so professors treat you 'fairly'. But life, as you know it, does not necessarily conform to your standards of fairness, does it? I know Mr. Potter's life hasn't. Mine hasn't. I'm sure each of you have parts of your life you can clearly consider unfair. But you're WIZARDS, you do and shall command considerable power in the world based simply on your will, your skill, and your attention to detail. You cannot let yourselves be derailed when some circumstance angers, frustrates, or stresses you. Certainly not if you're going to continue to oppose the Dark Lord. The ability to 'act', to present yourself one way, when you actually feel another is a critical skill. Misdirection, dissimulation, disinformation, these are critical skills... whether in dueling or political maneuvering. Can you see this?" Snape returned his attention to breakfast, realizing he was taking this conversation into far more adult realms than he had intended.

Hermione said, "I think I understand what you're saying. I really never realized that you were such a good teacher before," she hesitated, knowing that had sounded so much better in her head a moment ago. "I've learned lots in this month, because together you and I were looking at potions stuff, and I wasn't so concerned about you or what you were thinking. I think I can enjoy potions class more now, without you having to change how you do things."

Ron looked up with a mischievous smile, "Are you saying I could tell you off now and again, like we did that day?"

"You could certainly try, Mr. Weasley. But bear in mind, I would have to respond 'in character' myself, if you did. That might not work out too well for you, but I suppose it would have to depend on how lucky you felt at the time," Snape tried to suppress a smile.

Harry laughed. "I think we can do this, Professor. But..." he paused, considering.

"But?" Severus looked up at him.

"Is there anything we can do for poor Neville? He's really a great student, and given his talent with herbology I've got to think he'd be brilliant at potions. But he just gets so bumfuzzled in your class... you scare him to death. He can't remember left from right when you walk by. I know you can't be 'nice' to him or anything, but... is there any way you could just be a little less... well... terrifying?"

This time, Snape did chuckle. "Tell you what. I don't know that I can be any less terrifying to him, but... how about for the next few weeks we see about him teaming up with Ms. Granger as a lab partner. Can you help him maintain a bit more composure, you think?" he asked, looking at Hermione.

"I can try, sir. That might help, especially if we go over all the steps before we begin. I'll try."

"Very well, then I'll take it we have come to some accord. I want to see first class work from all three of you now, and if you need my help, let me know. If I can't attend to it in class, we can make some other arrangements or you can see me in office hours. Agreed?"

They all said that would be fine, as they settled in to enjoy their breakfast. It was one of the best detentions they'd ever had.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	7. Family Traditions

**Family Traditions**

 _"Papa? Are you free for tea this afternoon?" Ivan asked through mind-speak, in a cheerfully conversational tone._

 _"Of course, my son," Pavel answered in kind, suspecting strongly that he was about to be "managed". He idly wondered what Harry was up to now, having appointed Ivan to "run interference" for Harry, as Ivan's mother used to do for him when he was a boy. Pavel resolved not to "read" Harry or check on his moods until after teatime. "Senior Common Room at 4:30 then?" he suggested, looking for a comfortable place to meet with privacy from Harry or the other children._

 _"Perfect. See you there then," Ivan answered._

 **Two Hours Later:**

The Konstantyn's, senior and junior, sat comfortably sipping tea before the fireplace of the Senior Common Room, smiling at one another like two cobras circling in a pit.

"Well then, Ivan," Pavel began, "what did we need to discuss with such privacy?" as he discretely cast a mumbling charm around them.

The Senior Common Room held a smattering of faculty finished with their teaching day, wanting a bit of sanctuary from students knocking on their office doors, but not yet ready to retire to their quarters. There was a homey feel to this "Teacher's Lounge" rather akin to a comfortable London members-only club.

"Well, I have what is overall, excellent news. Harry has discovered a new ability!" Ivan announced, pausing for another sip of tea.

"I see. Well, that's wonderful, Ivan," Pavel responded, mildly, sipping his own in return. "And... he could not tell me this himself... why, exactly?"

"Ah, well, yes... there is a bit of a complication about that," Ivan dissimulated. "It may be something of an instance of 'accidental magic' that put him in a bit of a compromised position."

"Uh huh. 'Accidental magic' is not culpable. You know that, my son. Yet I am clearly being 'calmed' and 'managed'. So, it would appear the 'compromised position' means Harry did something wrong, and he's in trouble. So, we are here right now so that you can make me aware that Harry is in trouble, but that there's a silver lining to this cloud, and I am not to lose my temper at whatever Harry did wrong. Have I got that about right?" Pavel smiled, beginning some breathing exercises that calmed him from adrenaline flow.

"Yes, sort of. There are actually four issues here. In their sequence it goes this way: One, Harry accidentally had a breakthrough to a new ability. That was innocent. Two: He was amazed and discovered its use... then realized that to proceed. he would be doing a wrong thing. He proceeded, even after reflection and realizing that he was now breaking one of our cardinal rules of family. In part that was fueled by his excitement and pleasure, but he had clear awareness that he was doing wrong, and that there would be consequences. Three: He discovered some valuable information in the process, but exercised extremely poor judgment revealing what he had discovered as well as making it obvious that he had a new ability. It is likely that he knew better, that he should be more careful and circumspect, but I think there was a strong element of 'showing off', to what he did."

"I see. How did you get involved with this, then?" Pavel asked.

"Harry's kind of caught up in a web of circumstance. He's really excited about his new ability, and can't wait to discuss it with you. But he also knows that he did wrong, that he broke a major rule, and that consequences are non-negotiable on this. He came to me freely, knowing he needed to open all of this to you, seeking my advice and support. I'm just doing the 'Mum' thing, both for him and for you, since I know you don't want to overreact, and that you hate surprises."

"All right then, anything else? You said 'four' things, but have only mentioned three." Pavel's eyebrows knit with curiosity.

"Yes, there is one more thing. I think it will please you, though it may make things a bit more complicated." John smiled, and sipped more tea.

"Well?" Pavel knew he was being teased.

"Well, Harry wants to be treated as a Konstantyn son, rather than a Potter apprentice or bondsman. He wants to meet our traditional consequences for violating cardinal rules, rather than your mindfulness of his background." John paused, to let Pavel digest this before saying anything more.

"Seriously?" Pavel paused to reflect. "I don't understand. How did the matter even come up? Does he know what he is asking? Is he really ready for that, and know what it would entail?" and now all hint of anger in Pavel had disappeared, in the sheer wonder at the possibility Harry could so rapidly have come to a point of trust like this.

"I think he is and he does, Papa. He's a very courageous boy, you've noticed. How it came up was a simple honest answer to a question. He asked if he would be paddled for his wrongdoing? I said that it would depend on whether he offered you that option. He then asked what would have happened to me in that same situation. I told him honestly... I would have no voluntary option. For me to do what he did, to violate the rule he did, I would certainly be chastened, and that with your belt. I explained that those cardinal rules were tradition for generations in our family, and there was only one correction applied. However, the degree and severity always depended on the circumstances, and that you were no more brutal with your belt as with a small paddle or anything else. Nonetheless, it was a scarier event. From your father, to his father, and on back... the rules were sacrosanct and the means of enforcement set."

"What did he say to that?" Pavel wondered.

"He was nervous, of course. Not shocked, but a bit scared. But then he did that 'deep breath, look straight at you' thing he does..." Pavel smiled and nodded, recognizing the gesture... "and said, 'Tell Papa, I'd rather be treated as a son than a sheltered waif. I want him to raise me as he raised you, and the Dursley's be damned.' I promised I would tell you,"

"Oh, Ivan... how far our little man has come in so short a time! What a job you've done in encouraging and gaining his trust! I cannot thank you enough, my boy. How can he possibly ask this? How can he trust me to correct him with a belt in my hand? _той ублюдок - toy ublyudok,_ Dursley, wielded a belt as a weapon of aggression, injuring that poor child for his own selfish emotional catharsis... it was never an instrument for changing the heart. I'm... I'm dumbstruck."

"Ah, good. I wanted you to understand all of this before you sent for him. I have sent him to his room, to ponder his misdeeds and their reform, while he frets over his immediate future. In short, he's been told to 'wait until Papa gets home'... with all the traditional trepidation such an instruction entails. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss before you put the poor boy out of his misery?"

"You've not told me anything of what he's done, or his new ability. Is there anything there I should know?" Pavel asked.

"I don't think so. I really think this all needs to be part of your 'little chat', but I wanted to be sure that while you will, indeed, be angered at what he did wrong, you could place that within a context of this whole picture. I, too, am just floored by his trust and yielding to our ways and our love. I know you will do right by him, and I think it's important for him to be the one to tell you all that happened."

"All right, son. When does he expect me?" Pavel looked at the Tempus above the fireplace.

"Well, he knew I was going to speak with you now. I had him go to his room when he finished class. He's never had to wait for you to 'come home' this way before, so I think all your options are pretty much open. We're breaking new ground here." Ivan replied.

"All right. I will need a few minutes to think all this over before I call him to the Study. Since it is Exam Week, I'm sure the children will be at the Dining Table to study their lessons. They will, no doubt, notice his 'walk of shame' to and from my Study, but they'll not tease or humiliate him for it. You may want to go up, and provide some comfort of your presence. When will Oxsana be home?"

"She'll probably be at the Ministry until 6:00 or so. We can hang out in the living room, and play chess for a while if you like. She and I will probably eat at our quarters, rather than me going to the Great Hall."

"Perhaps you can plan to eat at the Dining Table tonight, and let Harry choose if he wants to go to the Great Hall, or if he'd prefer to eat with you... whether standing or with a cushioning charm."

"You think he may be standing then?" Ivan asked, a bit concerned.

"Son, I as yet have no way to know, do I? I have no information whatever. No idea what he's done wrong, except that it's a non-negotiable... and no idea what extenuating circumstances there may be. I don't know yet if he's contrite and repentant, or smug and self-satisfied. I realize he knows he did wrong... but I don't know if he regrets the nature of the wrong he did, or simply the fact that he's broken a rule and he will be chastened for it. I can never know how serious the consequence, until I know how far we are from learning that it's not how we want to make decisions." Pavel shrugged, frustrated with his own inability to answer the question.

"I know, Papa. I know... I guess..." and John unexpectedly laughed, "I guess this must be how Mum felt in these conversations, isn't it?"

Pavel laughed in response, "I'm sure it's exactly how she felt. Neither of us EVER rejoiced to see our son in pain. But there's discipline, that can apply brief pain in the interests of making permanent change in the heart. And then there's refusal to apply discipline, which can leave our child in a state of wrongful attitude and heart, resulting in frequent and consistent painful experiences of a variety of kinds, until it is resolved. I love BOTH of you too much to allow such a state."

"I bet Mum would have adored Harry..." Ivan mused.

"Agreed..." Pavel nodded. "And she... like YOU... would have been tempted to spoil the lad rotten! Enough of this, now. Are we finished?"

"Yes, sir... And may I say... Better you than me!" John laughed.

"Uh huh, you may say it now... but you wait..." Pavel challenged, laughing as he rose from his seat. "One day, I will have grandchildren! And I will get to watch YOU go be the 'bad guy', and I will get to be the patient and indulgent _Didus,_ spoiling the poor wee tykes!"

"Pfft! I should live so long..." John whispered, watching Pavel's retreating back.

"I heard that!" came Pavel's voice, echoing as he headed outside to take a walk and think.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	8. A Little Chat

**A Little Chat**

Pavel entered his quarters to find John sitting at the Dining Table with Ron and Hermione hard at their studies.

"Good afternoon, Children," Pavel waved cheerily as he walked through the door heading for his Study.

"Afternoon, sir," the children answered, as they stood when he entered. It was such a small courtesy, but one he was delighted to see them honor. To stand when an elder, or a lady entered the room, to help a lady seat herself at table, or to open a door for her or for someone with full hands... archaic, perhaps... but so simple a gesture to nourish one's own servant-heartedness. How courtesies and signs of respect had somehow been socially perverted to imply DISrespect... such as sexism or ageism... had ever struck Pavel as a mystery. One that he decided did not merit his time or concern.

"I trust your days went well," they heard dimly from Pavel as he retreated into his sanctum. He changed into his lounging robes, sat at his desk and cleared away his work, then just paused there for a minute or so with his eyes closed in preparation.

Unsolicited, a cup of his favorite tea and small plate of his favorite nibbles popped in from the aether at his right hand, followed a moment later by Dobby to the left of his desk.

"Yes, Dobby? You wish to see me?" he asked, patiently.

"Bad thoughts, Master..." the little elf looked down in some embarrassment.

"Well, Dobby, you're a bit early on that, aren't you?" he said in a soothing voice.

"Probably. But Master is going to be mean to Harry Potter, isn't he?"

"No, Dobby. Come here a moment..." and Pavel reached down with his hands as one would invite a child, and Dobby reached up to let him pick him up. Pavel lifted Dobby to sit on the edge of his desk, so they could speak comfortably, both seated, eye to eye.

"I am NOT going to be mean to Harry Potter. Now, as you are clearly aware, Harry is in his room, waiting for me to call him and deal with something he has done wrong. I don't yet know what his consequences will be, because I have no idea yet, what he's done wrong!" Pavel chuckled. "BUT, it is possible that Harry will be chastised... perhaps a spanking, perhaps grounded... I can't know yet. But whatever I do, it will be to teach Harry, not to be mean to him. It is hard to do that, because I don't like making him unhappy any more than you like seeing him so. Nonetheless, I love him too much not to train him so that he grows up into the fine wizard and man he is meant to be.

"Let me ask you, Dobby... You see lots of things here in the Castle, don't you? You see lots of students, not just Harry, right?"

Dobby nodded energetically, "Oh, yes, Master. Dobby watches LOTS of things."

"All right. Then I'm sure you see lots of students do mean things, wrong things, to one another. Or do wrong things in class. Or fail to study properly, and perform poorly in their classes, don't you?"

"Yes, Master. Sometimes..."

"Well, don't you think it is sad that those students either don't have parents that care enough to raise them to be courteous, kind, caring people... Or that their parents just don't know how they behave, or they get in trouble when they get home? You remember the Dursley's house, and how awful things were for Harry there, right?"

"Yes, Master. Harry is much happier here at Hogwarts, and in your family."

"Do you think Master John has grown up to be a good boy?" Pavel chuckled interiorly, imagining Ivan cringe as he overheard this conversation from his seat just a little bit beyond the Study's open door.

"Oh, Yes, Master. Master John is a very fine wizard! Very kind, and good."

"Well, Dobby, I am raising Harry just as Master John was raised. Sometimes, when Ivan misbehaved, he was spoken to harshly, sent to bed early, grounded, or even spanked. But he always knew... always... that his mother and I loved him, accepted him, treasured him, and were proud that he was our son. His behavior may be unacceptable, and we would deal with that every single time, consistently, and without fail. But HE was never less than treasured.

"Now, Dobby, I am going to do no less for Harry. And I regret it when that makes him unhappy. Just as I regret it when it makes YOU unhappy. Frankly..." and he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper... "you should know, it makes ME unhappy!"

"Truly, Master?" Dobby looked up in amazement.

"Truly! BUT, I love Harry enough to raise him properly, no matter what. Now, Dobby, is that all right with you? I don't mind at all if you feel bad when Harry is unhappy. I do too. But feeling bad, is not a 'bad thought'. You're allowed to feel bad when someone you love is unhappy. All I want is your trust, that everything I do for Harry is meant to his good... not to be mean. I will never punish Harry just because I am angry, or because it makes me feel powerful to do so. I promise. In fact, I usually avoid making any such decisions when I am angry. I wait, until I can think totally clearly, before I ever respond in correction.

"Now, Dobby? Are you still thinking bad thoughts about me?" Pavel smiled.

"No, Master. You are a good master."

"Very well. Then we will let this go. Now, if I have to correct Harry this evening... if I have to make him unhappy about something he has done... I want you to remind yourself that I am not being mean, I am teaching. And I don't mean him harm, I mean him good. If you can remember that, even if you are unhappy with me on Harry's behalf, and you refrain from thinking about calling me bad names, or doing something bad to me or my food... then you will have nothing to come to me about, and no need to stand in the corner. Do you understand? Do you think we can try this?"

Dobby nodded so energetically he ears flopped with an odd little "wakka-wakka" squishy sound.

"Understand, I am just as happy with you and your service whether you succeed or not. Whether you stand in the corner or not, I'm just as grateful that you are with us. It will just be happier for you if we can make this progress. All right?"

"All right, Master. Dobby will try."

"Thank you," Pavel said, gently lifting the elf down off his desk. "And Dobby?" the elf looked up at him with those great bulbous expressive eyes, "In case Harry is unhappy tonight, or if he hurts a bit..." Pavel dropped his voice to the lowest whisper... "feel free to sneak his favorite dessert and a glass of milk in to him, and if he's uncomfortable where he sits down, go ahead and heal him with magic. Just don't let me know or see it... or Ivan or Oxsana, OK? Keep it secret between you and Harry. If you try, and Harry refuses, let me know. Otherwise, I don't need to know anything about it, all right?"

"Yes, Master. You've made Dobby very happy!"

"I'm glad... Now get on with you. I've got to deal with the hard part next," Pavel sighed a bit and Dobby smiled and sadly nodded in sympathy as he snapped his finger and disappeared in a small puff of smoke.

Pavel walked from his Study to Harry's bedroom door and gently knocked, noticing on the way that Ivan had shifted the children from Study Hour to Playtime, as they engaged in Monopoly at the coffee table near the fire. He heard Harry invite him in, and he entered.

Harry had been studying at his desk, when he rose to greet Pavel. "Good evening, Papa," he said, in a clear voice.

"Evening, my son," Pavel replied, crossing his arms to lean against the bedroom door as it closed behind him. "I understand we've had an interesting day, no?"

"Yes, sir. You might say that," as Harry blushed a bit and looked down.

"Do we need to carry on this conversation in my Study?" Pavel's voice was calm and neutral. He did not want to make it harder for Harry to be truthful with him because of fear, but he didn't want to imply that this was less than a serious situation, either.

"Yes, sir, that's probably best," Harry answered.

Pavel opened the door and led the way to the Study, where he waited to close the door behind Harry as he entered. It was not lost on him that Harry was wearing a long-tailed shirt, oversized jumper, and his thickest jeans, either. "Have you had your tea? I didn't notice anything of it on your desk."

Harry smiled, "Yes, sir. I was served, but... um... I didn't have much appetite, I'm afraid."

"I see," he nodded. "Well, what has happened? I understand you have discovered a new ability, eh?" he decided to open with a "good news" point.

"Yessir!" Harry brightened immediately. But then, realizing that he couldn't even begin to discuss this without revealing what he'd done wrong, the mood clouded over quickly.

"Zo... tell me about it. Now, Harry, just so you know... Ivan has spoken with me about the fact that you've done something wrong, but he's said nothing about any content at all. Don't be afraid that I will be surprised, or enraged, or even disappointed. I understand that you've broken one of our cardinal rules, a non-negotiable, and I'm at peace with that. You are a fine young man in training, my son, and it is expected that you will misbehave at times. So... try to get past THAT part of your discomfort, and let's just talk for now. No unaskable questions, and I'll not yell at you or berate you. If I 'lecture' you... well, that will be late in the conversation. For now, just tell me what's going on, please. Go ahead and sit down, if you like..."

"No, sir, if it's all right, I think I'll stand..."

"That's fine," Pavel said gently, as he chose to sit down to listen.

"Well, it was the Mid-Term Exam for Defense Against the Dark Arts today. And... well... you kinda know what I think about... well, all that." Pavel nodded.

"Well, it was really hard for me to 'Study' for that exam, ya know? Because I think he's just such a..."

"Don't go there, Harry... not now. Just tell your story..."

"Yessir. Well, I'm looking at this exam paper, and we're supposed to retell all this guff about him capturing this, and taming that, and going here, and braving there..."

"Harry? You've been warned..." Pavel interrupted again, in a bit sharper tone.

Harry sighed, and closed his eyes a moment to regain some composure. "Well, I looked at these questions and just felt sick to my stomach. I knew if I wrote what I was thinking, I'd fail. So I wanted to figure out some way to write these paragraphs without lying, and still pass the test. So, I looked at the first question and thought, 'What does Lockhart want to see for this answer?'"

Pavel just listened, not correcting Harry for disrespectful reference to his professor...

"And in about a minute, words started to enter my mind. I knew what to write. It was like listening to the 'right answer' right there as I sat at my desk. I thought I'd just gotten lucky, and remembered something from _Magical Me_. But then, when I got to the second question, the same thing happened... except I started to SEE the action in my mind's eye, just like Lockhart had written was like listening to him tell the story all over again. I was writing as fast as I could with my quill, just trying to keep my handwriting legible.

"The weird thing was... well, I mean, besides the whole thing to begin with... that I was just hearing/writing complete sentences, complete paragraphs. I wasn't having to think at all, or compose or edit or anything. It was just THERE... like 'Blam'! And I was hearing it in Lockhart's voice... Like I hear your voice when we mind-speak.

"As I moved through the questions, this just got easier and easier. But then, I started realizing I was hungry... for shrimp and a caesar salad. Papa? I'm allergic to shrimp, and I HATE caesar salad. But I looked up at Lockhart and he had that funny faraway look on his face, and I knew it was HIM that wanted the shrimp and salad. That's when I realized what was happening, really..."

And as Harry paused, Pavel nodded his head, also understanding what had happened. Harry was READING Lockhart. As clearly as opening a book and turning the pages.

Here, Harry stumbled in his words, looked down and faded out for a moment, then drew a deep breath and looked Pavel straight in the eye. "Sir, I realized that I was asking questions and getting the answers directly from Lockhart's mind. Clearly he had no idea I was there. Rather than stop, or call out to you to tell you what was happening and ask advice... or even call John... I just figured I'd locked in to an easy 'Outstanding'... and completed the rest of the exam in the same way. I knew, from that halfway point on, that this was cheating. But I didn't care, because, sir... I think he's such a git, I don't respect him enough to care. I knew it was wrong at the time. I knew it was a cardinal rule at the time. But I thought... 'no one will ever know'... and I did it anyway."

"I see," Pavel said, calmly. "You are right in believing that we will address that... later. For now, just carry on. I gather that was not the end of it."

"No, sir..." Harry now continued with considerable energy and relief. "May I still sit, sir?"

"You may..." Pavel was confused, until he realized that Harry had now gotten past the only "shameful" part, and was greatly relieved to tell the rest of the story.

"Well, when I got the whole exam written and perfect..." Harry had the grace to look down a moment, in an instant of embarrassment, "I thought to myself, 'I know this crap can't be true. He's a coward and an idiot..."

Pavel struggled mightily with himself to let these words go by without comment or change of expression...

"So, I wondered what the TRUE stories REALLY were. I focused again on each of the questions, and stayed still in my mind, trying to... to... 'soak deeper' is the only way I can say it. I don't know how to describe what I did, but it was sort of like relaxing to fall through the Devil's Snare Weed in my first year. And I got it! I saw the real story! He didn't capture that beast, another wizard did. They met up in an airport restaurant as the real adventurer was heading back to England. He memory-charmed the poor git, and stole his journals that he'd brought out. The story was the same for every single thing he claims! He researches who is out adventuring where, then 'accidentally' bumps in to them before they get home, and steals their adventure! So, I figured, 'I'll show him!'"

"Oh, Harry..." Pavel began to groan.

Harry was surprised, "What, Papa? What's wrong?"

"Nothing... yet. What did you do with this information?" Pavel hoped for the best, but prepared for the worst.

"HA! I wrote it down, as if doing the Exam all over again. Every question, every theft, who really did it, where he stole it, when he claimed it! He's been caught out, and now he knows it!" Harry declared proudly.

"Ah, my son, my son... so much you have left to learn," Pavel shook his head. "All right then, first things first. Go to your room, back to your desk, take parchment and quill, and write that entire list out for me. I suspect you can now recall it perfectly, can't you?"

Harry hadn't thought of that. He didn't think so. He'd never been able to remember much of anything... let alone anything detailed or complicated perfectly before, but... When he tried to remember this, "Bam" there it was again, just like he was looking at his paper in a penseive. He was confused, but delighted. "Yes, Papa. I don't understand this at all, but... Yes I can recall it."

"Good, go to your desk and write it out, then return here. Go..." _Pavel dismissed him, as he mind-spoke to John. "Ivan?"_

 _"Yes, Papa?"_

 _"You've heard all of Harry's story, yes?"_

 _"Yes, Papa," and Pavel could hear the smile in Ivan's voice._

 _"What then have you done about Lockhart? Have you taken any action?"_

 _"Other than putting sticking charms under all his luggage and bolstering the school wards and floos not to let him escape, no, sir, nothing. If he does not seek to flee, he won't know anything has been done."_

 _"Thank you. Have you discussed Harry's poor judgment in exposing himself this way?"_

 _"No, sir. I thought you'd prefer to do that in your 'little chat'."_

 _"HA! You're just letting me take the 'bad cop' role in this whole thing. Don't think I'm fooled."_

 _"I don't know what you're talking about, sir!" Ivan said, in an injured tone._

 _"Pfft!" was all he got for a reply. "Have Oxsana see me when she returns home, please. We'll let her research this list when Harry gets it written up again."_

 _"Yessir."_

Harry returned to the Study, parchment in hand, at a few minutes before six. "Here, Papa. I've rewritten all the information. Do we need to get ready for Supper?" he asked, a bit hopefully.

"No, Harry, you and I won't be going to the Great Hall tonight. Wait here, please," Pavel instructed, as he stood taking the parchment from Harry out to John. "Ivan? Please give this to Oxsana when you see her, and would you be kind enough to go to Supper with the children and make my apologies at the Head Table. Harry and I have some unfinished business to attend to. Please let Professor McGonagall know that if she has no objections, Harry will be spending the night here. The children are welcome to return after Supper, but Harry will be unavailable to join them."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	9. Exorcising Uncle Vernon

**Exorcising Uncle Vernon**

 _Harry returned to the Study, parchment in hand, at a few minutes before six. "Here, Papa. I've rewritten all the information. Do we need to get ready for Supper?" he asked, a bit hopefully._

 _"No, Harry, you and I won't be going to the Great Hall tonight. Wait here, please," Pavel instructed, as he stood taking the parchment from Harry out to John. "Ivan? Please give this to Oxsana when you see her, and would you be kind enough to go to Supper with the children and make my apologies at the Head Table? Harry and I have some unfinished business to attend to. Please let Professor McGonagall know that if she has no objections, Harry will be spending the night here. The children are welcome to return after Supper, but Harry will be unavailable to join them."_

With that, Pavel returned to Harry, closing the door behind him, as the children looked at John with concern.

Ron finally asked, "Is Harry in trouble?"

John nodded, "Afraid so, yes. But he'll survive, no fear."

"What's it about?" Ron asked, voicing concern.

"He'll probably tell you guys later. For right now, well, it's not our business." John said, kindly. "Let's go eat, hmmm?" as the children headed out the portal, and John the door.

* * *

"Now, my son," Pavel began, once the others left and he motioned Harry to follow him to the comfortable chairs by the fireplace, "have a seat and tell me about your discussion with Ivan about our family traditions and the cardinal rules. I need to be sure that we both understand what it is you want."

Harry sat down and found it really hard to talk about this. Pavel waited patiently until Harry had worked up the nerve to open the conversation.

"Well, it's just this. I know that I cheated today, and that I'll be punished for that. And I know that if I handed you my paddle, you'd most likely spank me for it."

Pavel nodded to affirm, "Harry, there's no 'most likely' about it. If you handed me your paddle, for breaking our rule against cheating, just as lying, stealing, breaking your word, or defiance... you would and will, every time, be spanked."

Harry nodded, again needing to take a deep breath. "But, if I DIDN'T hand you my paddle, I'd have a different consequence... not a spanking, right? You wouldn't touch me."

"That's right."

"Why, sir?" Harry looked up at him with a deeply questioning gaze.

"Because of your upbringing, Harry. You have never known consistent loving discipline, except as you've known it here at Hogwarts, primarily through detentions or the correction of Professor McGonagall. The home you came from used violence as a weapon against you and a means of terrorizing you. Discipline, even correction, should be nothing more than a part - hopefully a small part - of a whole environment and experience of being loved, provided for, nurtured, and protected. You endured years with no such thing in your life. I do not want correction to make you feel defensive, rejected, unloved, or fearful. There are other ways I can sanction unacceptable behavior, making disapproval crystal clear and restoring any rupture of authority, without doing violence to you. You've been far too damaged by violence in the past, for me to want to feed into that in your present or future."

"So it's up to me, whether I get spanked or not... as things stand. Right?"

"Almost right. You may assuredly decide whether you are willing to be spanked. But even if you are, as in... say you get in school trouble and a note is sent home and you are grounded. You may opt out by handing me your paddle, but even then... I may choose not to take the offer. You do not determine whether, or how much, I choose to exercise that option. In all likelihood, I would use it. But I reserve the right to decline the offer if I choose. The point of the exercise is usually the need for you to yield to authority, and that may or may not be aided by a few well placed swats.

"But today, you and Ivan entered into an entirely different area of discussion," Pavel continued, in an encouraging tone.

"Yessir. I realized that you treat me just as you treated John, except for this. I talked to John about how you would have handled him if he did what I did today. When he told me, I realized what you said just now... about my life at the Dursley's. This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever said in my life... But I... I know you've raised John all his life, and you've only had me for a few months..." Harry's voice thickened with emotion as he neared the tenderest part of his feelings... "But you call me your 'son', and I've come to really feel and believe that. I wish I were your son. I wish you were my father. You let me call you 'Papa', and that means more to me than you can possibly know...

"But I'm different. I'm NOT your son. I'm not treated like your son... Not in this one area. In this one area, John is/was treated like your 'real son', and I am treated with kid gloves as if I were fragile or broken or something. And it's not my fault, it's Vernon Freaking Dursley's fault.

"This afternoon, talking to John, I just decided... I don't want Vernon Dursley messing up this part of my life. You're not him. You don't talk like him, act like him, or treat me like him. You don't hate me as a Freak, you love me like a son. So I just decided... I'm going to trust you. I want to be fully a part of this family. So I want 'Family Traditions' to apply to me, too. I don't want special treatment. You call me 'your son' and I know you mean it. Well, all right then, I honor you and your words as my father, because I mean it, too. I trust you, and if you're willing... I don't want to be treated differently than you would John."

"Harry," and now it was Pavel's voice that thickened with emotion... "I hardly know what to say. You have no idea how moved I am to hear you say these things."

Harry's shoulders slumped, as he thought he was being gently set up to hear, "No" as a response.

"You are right, that you have been part of our lives a much shorter time than Ivan. But I hope you realize, our love is not measured by 'tenure'. We love you as part of our family as deeply and assuredly as if you had been born to Iryna. Let me just confirm that I am hearing what you are saying... Ivan has been disciplined throughout his life, consistent with the customs of our culture and the specific traditions of our family. That includes the nature of our family rules, and the assurance that their violation will bring correction. That correction, specifically for _those_ rules, is to be... 'walloped' I think you call it... with leather. Depending on the seriousness of the situation that may be the belt I am wearing, or a leather strap that hangs in the woodshed of the Chalet or one that hangs in the Stables at the Manor - a different home we have. You are saying that, while this avenue of correction has been closed to you because of my refusal to engage in the deplorable behavior of Vernon Dursley, you feel that is not appropriate..." Harry was nodding here.

"You want to be disciplined just as John was and would be, trusting that you will not be abused, because you don't want our relationship 'interfered with' or affected by being overshadowed by your history or the cruelty of Vernon Dursley. Am I hearing you correctly, Harry? Am I presenting your view fairly?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. "I don't know how to explain it, and it probably makes no sense, but..." Harry almost chuckled here, "Again, this is probably the stupidest thing I've ever said or done in my life... But I feel like I can't be the son you want me to be... You can't be the father I want you to be to me... because Vernon Stupid Dursley has somehow wrecked that, and I can't get to it. Does that make any sense at all to you? Because I feel the feeling so clearly, but can't find the words that make any sense of it!"

"Peace, my son," Pavel said, kindly, "I think you've said this all very well. In short, you don't want the shadow... the ghost... of Vernon Stupid Dursley, to affect our relationship or how I raise you... even regarding whether or not you get walloped. You want to feel as fully my son as Ivan, and as long as you feel 'specially wrapped' or marked 'fragile'... you will not feel so fully my son. Is that it?"

 _"YES!_ That's it exactly! I've got no particular yearning to get a hiding. But I don't want to be exempted from it, either... not because of the Dursley's and their problems. This may sound dumb, but I've been BEATEN with a belt loads of times. But I've never ever simply been spanked with one. I know for sure it would be awful... maybe as bad as the cane... But I know you aren't cruel, and you won't wallop me out of anger. If spanking John with your belt was the right thing, or even the strap for breaking cardinal rules... well, it can't be any less right for me, can it? I can trust you. And I trust you to do right by me, whether with my paddle... or even your belt. I don't want to be your son with an asterisk... or your 'almost' son. I'd rather be all in, than half in half out."

"Harry," Pavel began, thoughtfully, "I've never felt more respect for you, or for anyone, frankly... than I do right now. I am deeply moved, and appreciate more than you can ever know, the trust, love and respect you have for me and for this family. I want you to know, and believe, how deeply we love you... as my son, Ivan's brother, Oxsana's beloved little brother. No words can express how deeply you dwell in our hearts.

"Therefore... I shall honor your wish, Harry. Henceforth, you will live under no different conditions, allowances, or exemptions than Ivan does or did, growing up. Please understand, however, that does not mean I shall always deal with you exactly as I dealt with him in a similar situation. You have very different hearts and motivations at times. You are much more tender and innately compassionate than he, and it often took a great deal more to 'get his attention and focus' than it does yours. So don't think any one-to-one comparisons will always work out. I correct until a lesson is learned and authority is properly restored. That may happen sooner or later for one child than another. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"All right then. I think we have some matters to address," as Pavel cleared his throat and returned to a more business-like tone. "Harry? Why did you write up the second half of your exam the way you did?"

"Why?" Harry asked, surprised. "Because Lockhart did all that stuff, and he deserved to know that he was busted... that I knew what he did! Why? Why wouldn't I do that?"

"Let me ask this another way... Harry? What did you seek to accomplish by doing that? What was your purpose, your intention?"

"What? Well, just to show him he was found out!"

"All right. Now, if you were a gormless wizard who was riding on a false reputation of adventure by stealing the memories of true adventurers, making a small fortune publishing books filled with your lies, now comfortably teaching Dark Arts at a wizarding school, and a 12 year old student read your mind and wrote it all down for you on an examination paper... what would you do? Don't answer right away... THINK!"

Harry just looked confused as he sat back, feeling a bit deflated.

"Harry! You're being trained better than this! THINK! Analyze! Risk assess!"

At the words "risk assess", something clicked in Harry's mind. He started to think in tactical and strategic terms. Suddenly, his brow cleared as the ideas began to fall into place. "Oh.." he said. "Oh my..."

"Ah. You begin to see... Now, the question was, if you were he right now... what would you do?" Pavel asked in crisp tones.

"There are a few possibilities. One, I could run. Two, I could deny, and try to brazen it out if the student tried to tell anyone. Three, I could hold still and hope it didn't go anywhere..." Harry's voice trailed off to silence.

"Go on, Harry. It won't get better by feigning ignorance. Go on, assess the risks... where are the risks, young man?"

Harry sighed, knowing he was in more trouble. "He could try to silence me, before I could tell anyone. As far as he knows, he has the only copy of my revelations."

Pavel nodded. "Two means to silence you come to mind. What are they?"

"One, the obvious, he could try to kill me." Harry declared, with a surprising air of the commonplace.

"And the other? Think Harry... how did he steal all those exploits?"

"Memory Charm! He could try to corner me and obliviate my memory of his misdeeds." Harry slapped his own forehead with his palm when he realized this very obvious possibility. "Oh, man... what an idiot I am."

"No, Harry. You are not, which is why such carelessness is so unacceptable. There is your tactical failure here. You did not think through the implications of what you were doing in the short term. But there is a strategic blunder here as well. What did you reveal to him, about yourself, that he did not know before? That NO ONE, in fact, knew before?"

"That I could read his mind." Harry said, softly.

"Yes, Harry. That kind of information, your abilities, especially when a new ability emerges that can give you an advantage in survival... is NOT to be shared willy-nilly. Just like your ability to Blink now. Few people know of it, and I want that kept secret for as long as possible. You must try never to reveal special skills, talents, or advantages you possess... except in great need, or to someone you trust absolutely. Another principle, of information gathering, you never reveal your source. You acquired valuable information about this man and criminal activity. But you then not only gave him the information you had... placing him on notice that he was found out, and tempting him to run or retaliate... but revealed the means by which you got the information, as even someone as mentally challenged as he has to have made the connection between seeing his own answer key on your test, followed by all this information that only he knew."

"I'm so sorry, Papa. That was so stupid of me! I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Now, Harry, if you are truly sorry, then I challenge you to put it into action with a brutally honest answer to this question: Why... Truly why, did you reveal all this to him? Take time, consider your answer carefully. What was your motive? What was in your heart?"

It was a long while before Harry answered. Finally, he sighed as he said, "I just wanted to show him up. I was so angry at what he did to those people, I just wanted to scare him... again. I don't know why, but he just makes me see red all the time. I wanted to show him I could do something he couldn't do."

"Thank you, Harry," Pavel said gently. "Is it fair to say that you felt powerful over him, and you wanted him to feel that power? That you were proud, and wanted to put him down in your pride? That you were, a bit..." Pavel made his voice even more gentle... "showing off? Since he is such a show-off?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly. "It's fair to say that."

"Thank you for your honesty, Harry. That kind of pride, that desire to put other people down to make ourselves feel big... Always... ALWAYS... leads us to make poor judgments. Adults do it as much or more than children do, believe me. But that attitude led to tactical and strategic carelessness, and you are being raised... and you have great personal need to master... eliminating such carelessness. I don't want you living every moment in risk assessment, but you must master some fundamentals of self-preservation, and simple humility will cover a great deal of that."

"Yes, sir. I see that."

"Very well. Then Harry, have you anything more to say? Is there anything we've not discussed that we should?"

"No, sir. I don't think so. Except to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I broke our rules, and that I used such poor judgment. I know you're probably disappointed in me. I'll try to do better."

"Harry," Pavel smiled, "I know you probably can't believe this, but I am NOT disappointed in you. You are a boy, my beloved son, my boy who lives. And that means sometimes you will misbehave, and use poor judgment. I love you just as you are, which means I will guide you, train you, teach you, and correct you. Do you persist in your wish to have no further distinction in discipline between yours and Ivan's? Fully knowing what that means?"

Harry thought a moment, then looked straight up at him and said in a clear strong voice, "Absolutely, sir. I would be fully your son, and Vernon Dursley be damned."

"All right then. Harry Potter, my apprentice and son, from this point forward you are to consider yourself a Konstantyn. You will be held to the same standards, be subject to the same traditions and customs - as you come to know them, and be treated no differently than you would had you been born to Iryna and me 12 years ago. I love you just as deeply, and will hold you to the same expectations from this day forth. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Yes, sir. That's my deepest desire."

"Then I swear to honor that. Now, can you swear to trust, love, and obey me as you would your natural born father?"

"I can, as long as we understand I'd probably disobey such a father sometimes, too," and Harry smiled.

"That is understood, Harry. Ivan was not always obedient, either," Pavel laughed.

"All right then, Papa. I swear it."

Pavel shifted into his "judge's voice" as Harry called it. _"So be it. Harry, you cheated today on a Mid Term Examination, even after realizing that you were cheating, and recognizing that such behavior violated a cardinal rule of our family. For this, you will suffer correction by use of my belt. Furthermore, as my son, it is expected that tomorrow you will go to Professor Lockhart and admit to your wrongdoing, submitting to whatever correction he assigns. I leave it up to you whether you speak with Professor McGonagall about your actions, but know that if I receive a note home about this, it is not necessarily considered satisfied by the chastisement you are receiving for the family rule. School discipline is a separate matter. Do you understand this?"_

"Yes, sir," Harry said sadly, "I understand."

 _"Furthermore, for both this, and for your poor judgment in how you handled the revelations to Professor Lockhart, you will spend tonight grounded to your room, and be sent to bed early. It is... 6:30 now. You will go to your room and change for bed. I will be in shortly and we will do what must be done. I know you've not yet eaten, but I'll not have you eat dinner and then be strapped. The upset would probably stop your digestion, and perhaps even cause you to throw up. Therefore, you will be chastened first, and after sufficient time to recover, I will have dinner sent to your room. You will most likely choose to eat it standing, after which you will go directly to bed. There will be no play, no reading, no recreation of any kind. Is your homework finished and prepared for tomorrow?"_

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. Then please go first to the bathroom and wash up, then go to your room and change into your pajamas. I will be in shortly."

"Yes, sir." and Harry slowly shuffled out to get his clothes and change.

Pavel remained quietly just to sit for a few minutes by the fire. This boy was so brave. So needy, so brave, and so loving. It broke his heart to do what he was about to do. But it just amazed him that the spanking he was about to administer was an absolute gift of security and belonging to this orphaned boy. He wanted to grow up like Ivan. He wanted to be raised like Ivan. To do that, he was even willing to be corrected like Ivan. Well, his heart and conscience were much more tender than Ivan's was, so he need not know that he'd likely never have correction like Ivan's. Ivan had been reckless, adventurous, sometimes carelessly cruel, often rebellious, and almost invariably unspeakably stubborn. Far too many episodes of correction turned into a battle of wills between them. Harry was made of entirely different material, and reached contrition and remorse at light speed compared to his older son. Harry had no need to know, but the pain of correction only needed to be "sufficient", never "severe". The pain experienced in any chastening by Pavel, was just enough for the ego to yield in surrender to caring authority.

* * *

After enough time for preparation, Pavel went to Harry's door and knocked softly.

"Come in, sir," Harry answered, with a clear voice, determined to hold his dignity. He stood from his bed when Pavel walked in, obediently dressed in his pajamas, wearing his robe and slippers.

Pavel walked in, closed the door behind him, sealed and sound-warded the door lest any unexpected guests arrived. He walked to Harry's coat hooks along the wall adjacent the door, and began to disrobe. As he removed his houserobe, he asked, "Why am I here right now, Harry?"

"I'm going to be walloped, sir."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	10. Liquid Fire

**Liquid Fire**

 _[After enough time for preparation, Pavel went to Harry's door and knocked softly._

 _"Come in, sir," Harry answered, with a clear voice, determined to hold his dignity. He stood from his bed when Pavel walked in, obediently dressed in his pajamas, wearing his robe and slippers._

 _Pavel walked in, closed the door behind him, and warded the door lest any unexpected guests arrived. He walked to Harry's coat hooks along the wall adjacent the door, and began to disrobe. As he removed his houserobe, he asked, "Why am I here right now, Harry?"_

 _"I'm going to be walloped, sir."]_

* * *

Pavel unbuttoned his waistcoat, one button at a time, hanging it next to the robe. "And what am I going to wallop you for, Harry?"

"For breaking one of our family's cardinal rules. Because I knowingly cheated on a Mid Term Examination in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and persisted even after I realized that it was wrong, and that it broke the rule." Harry's heart had skipped a beat when he'd said "our family's" rule.

Now down to shirtsleeves and breeches, Pavel walked to Harry's desk and removed his cuff links from the French cuffs of one of the monogrammed white linen shirts he invariably wore, steadily rolling up first his left sleeve to nearly the elbow, then his right. "That is correct, Harry. Such conduct is not permitted to you as my son and heir."

Harry couldn't take his eyes off Pavel's hands, as he performed this ritual he had repeated for nearly 30 years when he chastened a son. Ivan had once told him, confidentially, that even as a grown man, his legs would go numb and his lower back turn cold to watch his father remove his cuff links and, as he was doing right now, remove his wand and sheath from inside his right forearm and set it down next to his cuff links. John had laughed to admit that seeing his father do such a simple thing today could still turn his knees weak. Pavel had nodded when he said this, recommending that he remember this for his own children one day. This ritual prompted "dread", the fearsome awareness of inevitable doom. It began the experience of correction before the child was even touched, and saved Pavel from having to deliver at least two blows of actual chastening. The more he could build "dread" and the experience of correction before physical contact, the less actual pain he had to inflict. The point was not the pain, it was the surrender to authority and remorse. The sooner the better, to Pavel.

Harry had only seen this once before, when he and John had taken their paddlings together. So he didn't experience quite the degree of dread in muscle memory that John did, but it certainly focused one's attention.

Pavel then turned to Harry saying, "Please remove your robe, and get your mouthpiece. This will hurt more than a paddling, but probably less than your caning. Still, I don't want to risk any injury." He removed his belt, dressed black leather about two inches wide, quarter inch thick more or less. He did not double it, as Uncle Vernon always did, but rather gathered it up in his hand, except for the tail end of it hanging out about 14 inches or so. The edges were rounded, and there were no holes in it, as it secured itself magically.

Harry's heart was beating so hard and fast, he thought it audible - as actually, it was, to Pavel. He couldn't take his eyes off the belt in Pavel's hand and began to have second thoughts about this whole thing. "Sir, perhaps this wasn't my brightest idea. Could we discuss this again?"

"No, Harry. We've sworn oaths to one another, there's no going back now. Unless... one moment." Pavel paused and spoke in a very gentle voice, "Right now, as you stand there and see me holding this belt in my hand... whom do you see? Do you see me? Or do you see Vernon Dursley? That would make a huge difference."

Harry had to smile and shake his head, even in these circumstances. He SO wished he could lie to this man. "No, sir. I don't see Uncle Vernon. I just see my Papa, who's going to wallop me for cheating on an exam and breaking a non-negotiable rule. I'm not having a flashback. I'm just feeling my legs turn to ice, because I know this is gonna hurt like hell."

Even Pavel had to chuckle, without comment on his language. "All right, my son. Then we'd best get through this before you freeze solid. You'll live through it, I promise. Now, you have a choice. Do you want to assume the position, or do I put you across my knee? That's up to you."

Harry had never had such a choice before. The Dursley's had never spanked him, at least not to where they'd ever had to touch him. He'd been beaten, but only with wild swings and objects... broom, frying pan, belt, electric wire... whatever. But only Papa had ever gently put him over his knee, that one time he'd asked to be paddled instead of grounded, as Papa had sat on the bed and brought a pillow up to support the boy's upper body and cushion his hands and tears. That's the position John had taken, and he'd just followed suit. He didn't know if it was baby-ish to be turned over Papa's knee or not. He knew it made him feel vulnerable and childish, but the contact provided comfort as well. He'd assumed the position when he was caned, and there was no comfort there at all. But again, that had been Snape, not Papa. He didn't know what to decide.

"What did John choose, when he was my age, Papa?"

Pavel smiled. "No, son. Do what works for YOU, don't worry about being like Ivan. Would you feel more dignified to assume the position over a chair, or would you prefer across my knee? Either is fine."

"You, Papa..." he tried to steady his breathing. "I think..."

"Very well, then." Pavel briskly walked to Harry's bed and removed one of his pillows. He sat at the edge of the bed, put the pillow alongside him to his left, and put the belt down on his right. He held his hands out to help position Harry. Harry walked on leaden feet, as Pavel turned him over his left knee and hooked his right calf across Harry's ankles. "Put your mouthpiece in, take your glasses off and put them on the nightstand, hold tight to the pillow, and do not throw your hands out behind you. That will be a reflex, just as curling your legs up will be. My leg will prevent yours from coming up, and I'll steady you with my left hand, but may not be able to catch your hands in time if you throw them back. If you try that, I'll stop you with a shield at your waist. Your backside is well cushioned to take these licks without injury. Your hands could be injured, and I'll not have that. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Harry said, able to speak clearly through the magical mouth guard.

"You need not count or speak, in fact you'll likely be quite unable to do so. You are not to cuss or attempt to strike me. Other than that, the room is sound warded so don't worry about being overheard if you cry out, but you're not to fight or try to stand, though it is natural to squirm. Have you anything to say in your defense before we begin?"

"No, sir. Except... if I promised never to do it again, could we..."

"No, my son. We could not..." and the first lash fell like the crack of doom! **_"THWACK!_**

 _"Ye gods!"_ thought Harry as a piercing yowl was torn from his lips. Pavel was only striking with about 12 inches of leather, and the blow was nowhere near full force. But Harry had never imagined such discomfort from so simple a blow. Unlike the cane or even the paddle, there wasn't so strong a sense of initial impact, as the sudden rush of sting, and then an overwhelming wave of fiery pain. He was crying immediately. He'd always enjoyed that his pajamas here were silk, until at this moment he realized a layer of silk gave his upturned bottom all the protection of a spiderweb.

 _ **"THWAP!"**_ the second lick was placed below the first, and again felt like a line of bees hit him followed by a paint brush swipe of liquid fire. He couldn't help himself... his hands flew down to try to cover or comfort his backside, he squirmed, feeling awkwardly vulnerable bent over Pavel's leg. He understood now why Papa had his other leg on his ankles, as he'd immediately tried to arch to protect himself.

Pavel stopped and waited. Harry just cried, but only in a normal child's cry. He wasn't shrieking or yowling. "My son, we are not finished, but I'm giving you a moment to recollect yourself. You MUST keep your hands up out of the way. I'll not have your fingers injured by bad timing. Do you need my help to shield them away, or can you master the pain?"

Harry felt oddly complimented by the implicit challenge in Papa's words. He answered, "I'm sorry, Papa. I'm being such a baby. I can handle it. I'll keep my hands clear."

"You're not being a baby, son. You've never experienced this before, and I know it hurts like hell. It is intended to, but I know you can get command of yourself. Are you all right? May we finish?"

"Yes, sir, carry on," he answered bravely, remembering how he saw Papa take 6 hard strokes with a cane the week before, not even cry out and barely move*. _"Come on, Harry... surely you can hold still for this. This is WAY lighter than that was!" he exhorted himself._

 ** _"THWACK!"_** the blazing leather painted another stripe of fire across Harry's seat, as he danced with the pain but focused on keeping his hands firmly gripping the pillow. He'd shouted once, into the pillow, and kept his legs down this time.

 ** _"THWAP!"_** the lash was focusing left, then right, then alternating, and always down in the zone where he needed to sit. This time, though, he'd been prepared for the splash of bees and fire, and focused on his breathing and hands. He cried out again, and his tears flowed freely, but he was proud that he wasn't shrieking or carrying on.

 ** _"THWACK!"_** the serpentine leather tongue managed to find a part of his bottom that had not been yet blessed with its kiss. Wow, there were no words to describe the feeling of blazing lava instantly splashed across his backside. It amazed him to think that he'd taken much harder, much more damaging, blows... even with a belt doubled up... at the Dursley's, but never remembered it hurting this way. Of course, he'd never been put across the knee of a Papa who loved him, with his bum stuck up in the air, either. If this is what it meant to break a cardinal rule... he was going to try very hard never to do this again as long as he lived.

 _ **"THWAP!"**_ this lick managed to bridge squarely across both seat cheeks, forcing a downright howl from Harry as he struggled with all his will just to throttle the pillow in his hands, rather than reach down to cover and rub his way too vulnerable bum. He didn't know how much more he could stand, but he felt all too clearly, how serious Papa was about the family rules.

He felt Papa's calf come off his legs, and heard the belt drop on the other side of his bed as Papa said, "All right, son. We're finished." Harry collapsed like a limp rag, as all the tension in every muscle released simultaneously. He suddenly realized why Papa had him "go wash up" before he'd changed for his walloping. Had he not done so, he'd probably have... well... that didn't matter now. Papa rubbed slow circles down his back from shoulders to waist, while Harry just focused on breathing and crying. "My brave little man," Papa said. "You did very well. I know that was altogether new to you, and terrible. Stand up when you're ready."

"You don't think I'm just being a baby?" Harry sniffled as he took out his mouthpiece and tenderly rubbed his backside, before reaching out to hug to Pavel's chest.

"Not at all, little man. You were very brave, and everyone needs some hugs after a whipping. I did, after I was caned. Ivan did, after he was paddled. Nothing baby-ish about it. When we hurt, we need comfort. Come on..." as he enfolded Harry, after helping him stand. Harry grabbed his neck and buried his face in Pavel's chest, starting an entirely new round of crying. Pavel scooped Harry's legs up, to seat him comfortably on his lap sitting on the back of his thighs, letting his bottom stay clear of any weight. Pavel just rocked the boy, whispering... "My beloved son, in whom I am well pleased. You are very brave, and you took control of your pain. That was well done, son." Pavel just sat with the boy in his arms, and rocked him wrapped in comfort and security.

Harry glowed at the praise. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I try to be good, I really do. It's just sometimes, even though I know something's wrong, it's like I can't help myself!"

"I know, my boy. I know. That's why you have grownups who love and care for you, and a Papa... and a brother... who will correct and protect you, even from yourself. You did wrong and broke a rule. You've now taken your medicine for that, and that is forgiven. When you are recovered from your sniffles and hiccups, we'll send for your dinner and you can go to bed. I'll bet you're very sleepy."

Harry reached and put his glasses back on, checking the Tempus to protest, "But, Papa, it's not even 7:00 yet! You can't mean I have to go to bed already!"

"No, son. You get to have dinner first... but yes, indeed, your penalty for your handling of Professor Lockhart is that you are grounded, and being sent to bed early."

"Pfft! That's absurd, Papa. My bedtime in the Tower is 10:00... and you're sending me to bed at 7:30? Shall I go stand in the corner, while I'm at it?"

If Pavel had concerns about "crushing the boy's spirit" with his thrashing, they were well and truly relieved. "You, young man, are being extremely cheeky for someone who's bottom has just been warmed to a rosy red blister. Perhaps some time in the corner would indeed help you address me a bit more respectfully, eh?"

"No, Papa... I'll be good. It's just, being put to bed early? Really? I mean, what would I tell my friends? That would be SO embarrassing!"

"I don't know, Harry. Would you like to try? They're just outside the door, by now." Pavel laughed. He noticed that one side benefit of their banter was that Harry's sniffles, tears, and hiccups were gone. His face was still a bit puffy, and his eyes swollen and red. Pavel was pretty sure that was nothing compared to his backside though. He'd only used light force, swinging from the elbow only. But on a silk pajama clad backside that's never felt a moderate belt-spanking, he knew that fiery burn would make a perfectly adequate impression without leaving any bruising or residual soreness the next day. Harry would assuredly stand to eat this immediate meal, but within 3 hours this licking would be naught but a memory. Even less than that, if Dobby came as expected.

"Are you all right now, Harry?" Pavel asked, checking if he could disengage enough to arrange for Harry's dinner.

"Yes, sir. I'm OK. I just like sitting here like this." Harry giggled, as he tried to snuggle again into Papa's chest.

"Uh, huh. Well, my little scamp, I need to see about your dinner, and you need to quit stalling your bedtime. If you want to wash up without your friends seeing you, just Blink to and from the bathroom. Use the one in my bedroom, so that no... er... accidental awkwardness should occur in case a guest uses the one in the hallway. I'm going to Blink to my Study, since I can tell that the children, John, and Oxsana are in the living room. I've already told your friends that you are unavailable tonight, so don't even try..." he preemptively cut off the complaint he could see forming on Harry's face.

Pavel stood up, lifting Harry carefully to his feet. Using magesight, he could tell that Harry's backside was well tanned, but there was no injury. Still, Harry's hand would probably feel the heat radiating off it, even through his pajama pants, from a good three or four inches away.

"Your dinner will be here very soon. Figure out how you want to eat. I'll see you before you go to sleep." Pavel tousled his hair.

"Can I get a story to go to sleep?" Harry yawned, as all the adrenaline of the last hour started to hit him with its crash.

"We'll see, Scamp. We'll see," and with that, he replaced his wand and sheath, cuff links, belt, vest and houserobe, then blinked to his Study. Once there, he called to Dobby, requesting a dinner of Harry's favorite foods and dessert, and bid Dobby go join the boy while he ate and comfort his friend. He reminded the elf, if Harry refused magical healing, to let Pavel know. This was not a school-administered punishment, and Pavel had not forbidden magical healing, but it would be interesting to see how Harry responded to the offer.

In the meantime, Pavel walked out to join the rest of the family for the evening.

Everyone greeted him warmly as John looked up at him with a twinkle in his eye and asked, "Are your cuff links back in straight?"

"Perfectly straight, thank you, as is my wand."

Only Oxsana got the reference, having engaged in this "ritual" herself a time or two.

Ron, Hermione, John and Oxsana were engaged in a lively game of Monopoly at the time, rather awkwardly ignoring the apparent elephant in the room, wanting to ask about Harry. Pavel just went to his favorite chair and took down a book of poetry to unwind for a bit. A few minutes later, Dobby appeared, standing by the Study door, beckoning Pavel for a quiet word. Pavel joined him.

"Yes, Dobby?"

"Master Harry has eaten dinner, but wouldn't let me heal him. He said he didn't want to 'sneak' something that might not be allowed," Dobby looked sad.

"Thank you, Dobby. That is wonderful news, and just so you know... I am going to heal him right now, so he is just fine. You may 'sneak' him some warm milk and biscuits between 8 and 8:30, if he's not asleep when you get there. If he is asleep, just leave them on his desk for a bit, and collect them later if he doesn't waken."

"Yes, Master... thank you!" Dobby nodded, looking much happier.

Pavel went to Harry's door and knocked, as the Monopolists tried to pretend that they were ignoring all of this. They all heard Harry's answering permission to enter, and watched Pavel as he smiled to go in.

Harry was standing as Pavel entered, "Yes, sir?"

"Well done, my lad!" Papa said. "I know that my authority has been quite restored. Dobby's offer to heal you was not a 'test', but if it were, you'd have passed with flying colors. Just so you know, school punishments are not to be healed by magic except with the permission of the offended authority, but unless you are told otherwise, family consequences can be. It is considered bad form, however, to ASK for relief. If someone offers it out of compassion, it is perfectly all right to accept. Let me heal you. Turn about, please."

Pavel placed his hand hovering at Harry waist, stopping short of contact and closing his eyes as his hand glowed golden, issuing a soft golden light shining out covering Harry's lower back to his knees. The boy took on an expression first of peace then pleasure, feeling the throbbing heat and sting still present in his bottom cool down and settle to perfect comfort. He hadn't realized how tense he still was in his shoulders, back and legs, until the tension drained away and he was back in tip top shape.

"There you are, son. Good as new..." Pavel laughed, opening his eyes and patting Harry on the shoulder.

Harry bounced up and down on his feet like a jackrabbit, testing his condition and expressing his relief and joy.

"Wow, thank you so much, sir. I didn't expect that. Are you sure? I mean... well..." Harry expressed a moment of doubt.

"Yes, I'm sure, Harry. Will you ever do that again?" Pavel asked, seriously.

"No, sir."

"Is hurting for the next two hours going to make you any less likely to do that again?"

"No, sir."

"Then you don't need to hurt for the next two hours, do you? It won't teach you anything you've not already learned, will it?"

"No, sir. Not a thing." Harry nodded.

"Good. Now, in recognition of your reform, I am willing to relent just a TOUCH on the rest of your penalty. You may stay up until 8:00 if you wish, and socialize with family... though you may not play... after which you will excuse yourself and go to bed, and I shall tuck you in and... yes... tell you a story. You may remain here if you'd rather not come out. Whichever you prefer. What would you like to do?"

"Papa? May I make a strange request?" Harry said, experimentally rubbing his backside to confirm that he was as right as rain, then straightening his robe, slippers, glasses and wand in its sheath. Papa and John had never relented on the rule that his wand was to be on his person at all times from morning rising until he went to bed.

"You may. Though until I hear it, I cannot automatically approve it," Pavel replied with some curiosity.

"I know Ron and Hermione have to be worried. And I may as well tell them what's going on now, privately, than try not to be overheard at breakfast or between classes tomorrow. And I feel like it's only right to speak to Professor McGonagall. I'd rather do that before Professor Lockhart has a chance to speak with her. If I get detention or something from her, well... I can't say I don't deserve it. Though maybe, under the circumstances..." and he rubbed his backside with an impish grin.

"I see. So, would you like me to ask Professor McGonagall to join us for a few minutes? Would you like to see her separately, or do you plan to speak to everyone together?" Pavel asked, admiring both Harry's integrity to come clean, along with his political acumen in making the best of his circumstances, hoping for mercy from Minerva based on his recent discomfort.

"By your leave, sir," - Harry tried using an 'ultra formal' mode of address he'd recently learned from John, when needed for purposes of 'managing' Papa - "I'd appreciate only having to tell the story once. In fact, would it be possible to arrange the furniture as if for Inquiry, with Professor McGonagall having the head chair?"

"Indeed, son." Pavel nodded approvingly. The boy was showing distinct political aptitude. "Leave it to me. I'll let you know when all is in readiness. It will take a moment or two to see if Professor McGonagall is available."

"Righto. I'll be right there. Thank you, Papa."

Pavel walked out smiling, as he closed Harry's bedroom door behind him, and walked to the fireplace in his study to call to Professor McGonagall. "Professor? Are you busy?" he inquired of his floo.

 _"Not particularly, Paul" she responded through mind-speak. "What do you need? I've just been sitting with my feet up for a bit, reading a novel."_ Her office door was charmed such that if someone knocked, she would hear the summons and could answer verbally or step through from her quarters to her office instantly by floo.

 _"Ah, I hate to interrupt such moments of rest and relaxation, but Harry would like to speak with his Head of House for a moment." Pavel replied, coding his words to give Minerva a framework for response._

 _"I see," she chuckled. "Do I sense a confession or apology in the offing?"_

 _"That is a distinct possibility, yes." Pavel answered._

 _"And, do I take it the situation has already been addressed at home?"_

 _"It has, kind lady. But, as Harry is aware, that has been a matter only of family discipline. There is no foreclosure of academic consequences that may be due."_

 _"I understand, Paul. I'll be right there."_

 _"Thank you, Minerva."_

When Minerva stepped through to Pavel's Study, and he opened the door to the living room, he ushered her to her seat as head of an Inquiry. There was only a single student chair present, as there was no question of Solidarity to be considered. Harry's chair, this time, rested at an angle where he could address both Professor McGonagall and the sitting area where the children had been playing. As they stepped through, _Pavel mind-spoke to Harry, "The Professor has arrived. The room is ready for you."_

Harry came out of his bedroom wearing the royal blue crested robe over his pajamas and slippers, nodded a cheery greeting to the Monopolists, and went to stand in front of his chair to address them all.

"Thank you for coming, Professor. I'm sorry to disturb your evening, but I did something wrong today and I want to tell you about it, rather than you hearing some other way. Guys..." he continued, looking at Ron and Hermione... "I know you've wondered what's going on, and I really just wanted to tell this once, so... here we go... I, um, cheated on my Dark Arts exam today, but I didn't mean to at first, but then this strange thing happened, and..." and so he told the whole story of learning he could read Lockhart, then doing the exam that way, then finding out about his criminal activity, then disclosing all that to him. Then he described sharing all this with John, and then Pavel. He explained his current pajama-clad self as a sanction for his behavior, and being sent to bed early as one of his punishments.

It took a few moments for everyone to digest all the information. Reactions ranged from surprise at Harry's confession of cheating, to outrage at Lockhart's crimes, to amazement that Harry had developed natural _legilimens,_ along with deep curiosity from Ron at whether and how Harry had been punished, Hermione's amazement at the implications of taking an exam with spontaneous mind-reading going on, then John laughing at him, and the distinct sense of being batted away! Harry realized eventually, he was doing it again! _He wasn't hearing people **say** things to or about him... He was hearing people **think** things about him._ _He wasn't sure HOW or WHY he'd started doing it again... just that it was happening._

 _"Papa?" he began to ask, looking up at Pavel with an expression of bewilderment and dismay._

"I know, son. Right now, before you've learned to control this, it will tend to happen spontaneously when either someone is thinking something about or to you with extreme clarity or emotion... or when you want to know something and are anxious or otherwise highly motivated about it," Pavel spoke aloud.

"Wait a moment, Paul!" Minerva turned to him, surprise overcoming her intention of formality, "are you telling us that right now, Harry is..."

"Yes and no, Professor. Harry is not intentionally intruding on anyone's thoughts. However, he is hearing unguarded thoughts regarding himself. Particularly from the children at this time." Pavel answered.

Curiosity overcoming her sense of administrative propriety, Minerva turned to Harry asking, "Mr. Potter, see if you can discern my thoughts right now. I grant permission."

Harry relaxed, looking at her, and said, "I believe you are trying to decide whether I deserve a detention or not. And you can't decide because you don't know to what extent I've been punished already. But you're..." and Harry blushed at this, stammering to silence.

Minerva smiled warmly, "Go on, Mr. Potter. Go ahead and say it out loud."

"You're proud of me for coming forward and facing the music, as a Gryffindor should, when I could have avoided punishment by staying quiet."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. That settles my mind a great deal. Now, as I know you would otherwise share this information with Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, may I ask what penalty you suffered for your misdeed? You are quite welcome not to say, as I know that is a personal question, but it would indeed help me structure my own response. To choose, as you did, to turn in an examination with your answers knowingly drawn from your professor's mind, is quite out of order. I grant, however, that there are a considerable number of factors surrounding that decision... such as the onset of a new ability, your general contempt for the professor in question - and no, Harry, I don't consider that a positive factor - and your discovery of his unethical or illegal conduct... that would indeed bear on my deliberations."

 _Harry mind-spoke to Pavel, "Papa, would you explain? I mean, with the John thing and all? It just feels too complicated for me. Or embarrassing, or something... just... help?"_

"Harry has asked me to answer this. I'll be glad to. When Harry discussed this with John this afternoon, they discussed the difference of consequences that would exist between Harry as my ward, formerly of the Dursley household, and John as my son. For John, as my son, these cardinal family rules are a multi-generational tradition of our house and line, and the penalty for their violation is to be strapped, without exception. For Harry, consequences would be different due to his history. Today, Harry asked that no such exception be applied, that he be fully treated and accountable as a Konstantyn son. He did not, and does not, want the Dursley's to have any impact on his relationship in this family, even as to the issue of his discipline with regard to family custom. I have granted that request, and Harry has no further exceptions or exemptions. Therefore, in accordance with Harry's direct request, as fully my son, for cheating on his mid term examination, Harry was spanked with my belt. I am certain that given the same circumstances, he would not again make the same decision to misbehave. The matter is now closed, as to our cardinal rules and family consequences. Your options, however, are entirely open, Professor."

"I see. Well, thank you, Harry, for being willing to share that information with me. That does, indeed, clarify my choices. Cheating on your examination is not appropriate for a Gryffindor. As Head of Gryffindor House..." and Minerva watched Harry's eyes close as he took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't going to be restricted from the Quidditch team or grounded from flying, or worse... "you will report to my office tomorrow, whereupon I will give you a textbook from my restricted collection, _Transfiguration and Animagic._ You will read and review Chapter One over the weekend, and we will go over that together Monday. You will then review THAT work, with your family here, and we will proceed from there. Is this understood?" Professor McGonagall's voice had made this entire assignment sound very stern and harsh.

But... Harry's eyes opened as he heard her speak, as a great grin took over his features... "But... Professor... that's what I've..."

"Silence, Potter!" she cut him off with just the slightest hint of a smile. "I'll have no backtalk from ye! Now, do you accept your punishment meekly, or no?"

"Yes, ma'am." he nodded, trying very hard to look 'punished'.

"Verra well, then. I believe that concludes our business. Go on wi' ye, and chat with yer friends. I gather from yer dress, yer being sent to bed eairly, no?" She smiled at Harry's nod. "All right. I'll not take up more o' yer tyme! Off ye go..." and she rose, with her teacup to walk over to Pavel as he stood near the Study door. "Ah, wait," Minerva said, setting her teacup down for a moment. "How serious are you about being fully a 'Konstantyn son' now?"

Harry was a bit confused, as he stopped traversing the living room towards the Monopoly table. "Quite serious, Professor."

"Then come here a moment, please," she requested, waiting for him. "Hold out your hand," she commanded, when he reached her. John and Pavel both smiled as she took Harry's hand, inverted it, and spatted the back quite firmly.

"Ow!" protested Harry, more with surprise than with pain, though the blow did sting a mite.

"John will explain that," she laughed. "THAT was for Iryna, who, I've no doubt would have been very proud of you as her son. Now... off ye go!" and she dismissed him, picking up her teacup again as she and Pavel retired into his Study, leaving the door open.

"And don't think I don't know what you did with that 'punishment', Minerva!" Pavel muttered in mock disapproval, as he and she sat down in the Study's sitting area to let the young'ns relax together a bit. Pavel kept an eye on the clock, seeing that Harry had 40 minutes or so left of liberty before 'storytime' and bed. "You're as soft-hearted as Iryna! With consequences like that you will spoil the boy shamelessly! You know how much Harry has wanted you to let him start studying that!"

"Of course, though he has no idea that you and I have been discussing it. But after seeing that he's broken through _legilimens,_ not to mention _Blink_ on his own, how long do you think it would be... as badly as he wants to be an animagus like you and John... before he broke through that on his own as well? You know damned well, he's going to keep pondering on that like a dog worries a bone. I'm bound and determined that he should learn some of the traditional theory and safety procedures, before his magical passion just breaks out in some naturalistic form. He already has such skill forming an _imago_ with full conviction, he'll only be limited by his arcana for the moment. Considering his skill with animals as it is..."

"Pfft! I know you're right, Minerva. That doesn't mean I have to LIKE it!" Pavel growled in mock ill humor. He had this terrible conflict of emotions and interest between the pride and excitement of seeing how talented and skilled his protege was... at the same time as wishing he would slow down a bit, letting prudence catch up with his ability. "As it is, I'm going to have to set protections in place to keep his mind skills from becoming 'inconvenient' at best, or downright 'intrusive' at worst. Normally, these abilities would manifest first in some degree of isolation, so we can train the novice in their use and control before exposing him or her to large groups. What I'm MOST concerned about is the obverse ability here, he will have a largely unconscious ability to influence the thinking of others. People will 'have a bright idea' out of the blue, that they will believe is their own... that will fulfill a desire of his that he may or may not even consciously recognize. I think if Severus can begin to train him in _occlumens_ , that discipline will be a great help."

"Ha!" Minerva replied. "Those are some lessons I would pay to see! Although Harry... in fact, BOTH of them... have come very far in developing their relationship, I daresay it will be asking a lot for Severus to tutor Harry in mind magic. Nonetheless, I agree of course. Well..." she sighed, finishing her tea and rising to head towards the apartment door. She would avoid the pyrotechnics and soot this time. "I feel a novel calling my name. If there's nothing else, Professor? And if Gilderoy brings the matter of the exam to me, I shall consider it already dealt with. You'll be receiving no 'notes home' from Head of Gryffindor House."

"Thank you so much, dear lady, for always being such a support for our little man. He really is quite dear to me, you know."

"I do, indeed, Paul. And to me as well. I couldn't be happier that he's determined to become a Konstantyn. I can think of nothing better for him. Goodnight, rest well." So saying, she exited the Study and walked out the hallway door, being just down the hall from her own apartment without needing the floo network, and all its associated soot.

Pavel relaxed at his fireplace until his interior timesense told him it was 7:59, whereupon he entered the living room and, with naught but a cleared throat, called his youngest son away from his friends with a cheery "G'nite all", to hear Ron's response of "G'nite, mate", as Harry bowed to John and Oxsana, to head to his bedroom. Pavel brought the desk chair over to Harry's bedside, as Harry hung up his robe, took off his holster, wand, and glasses, and climbed into bed without demur.

Pavel tucked him in, tousled his hopeless mop of hair for a moment, and simply began... "Vonce upon a time..."

* * *

 _ ***** s/13060295/1/Justice-Must-Be-Served_

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	11. Yellow Card

**Yellow Card Condition**

Harry woke, bright and early the next morning at 6:45, finding his uniform folded neatly ready for him to take to the shower, as he put on his glasses and wand sheath. Once he was out of bed, his wand was to be worn always, and was impervious to water. As he passed through the living room on the way to make his ablutions, he cheerily greeted Pavel, John, and Oxsana sitting at the dining table enjoying their coffee, tea, and morning pastries, rolls, and fruit. He returned to join them in less than five minutes, as Pavel put down his newspaper to talk.

"Well, Harry, you get to spend the day with Oxsana yet once again!" he announced, as the chipper blonde nodded with a bright smile, and a half bitten croissant held at her lips.

Harry slumped a bit, knowing the implications here. "So... I'm..."

John laughed to carry on the conversation, "You're not grounded, Little Brother. But yes, you are under guard, and until the situation with Lockhart is resolved with any possible threat negated, you're on heightened alert status. Consider yourself under a yellow card."

 _"Aw... maaaan..."_ Harry whined.

When there was no specific threat to his safety, Harry was considered 'any other student' at Hogwarts regarding mischief, pranks, or other misbehavior. So if he got caught out of bounds, after curfew, or doing unauthorized magic, he was no more monitored and subject to no greater penalties than any other student. That was when his life was in "Green Card Condition". Since Papa had no House, and Harry carefully avoided misbehavior in History of Magic, he only had to deal with typical corrections from faculty, and that only if he messed up and got caught at something. In fact, in such cases, he could generally discuss the matter with Papa for education on better execution and advice on how not to get caught. And if not discussed with Papa, then certainly such discussions were welcome with John.

But in "Yellow Card Condition", anything that put him in an unexpected place or at an unexpected time was considered a "compromise of his safety", and knowingly or carelessly to compromise his safety, or incur unacceptable risk, bore serious - generally painful - consequences. "Red Card Condition", the circumstance where something deadly is clearly after him and risk is greatest, is nearly "house arrest" as Harry is not permitted to go anywhere without escort, and it's as if any rulebreaking carries with it a "presumption of guilt" rather than innocence.

One amazing thing that Harry had discovered in his periodic run in's with Pavel's discipline - as had a number of other students who unwisely decided to test the old man's resolve - was Papa's seemingly endless creativity in designing punishment. He could readily use "pain" in teaching a lesson, without the slightest use of "violence". The Twins learned that not long ago, as it happened to be Papa's turn to patrol the corridors after curfew. But they'd recovered nicely.

* * *

 **Striking a Deal with Lockhart**

Oxsana was again comfortably curled around Harry's throat as a thin little snake, entwined unnoticeably with his necktie.

He had finished his Transfiguration exam, following the advice Pavel had given him... to picture a small white picket fence surrounding a "house" of his own, his own home, his "Happy Place" dwelling for his own mind... and remain inside that while he took the exam. In order to "cheat", he would have to "reach out" to Professor McGonagall in some way that he would be quite aware of. As long as Harry consciously refrained from doing so, especially as she was now aware of the possibility, and would be alert to potential boundary violation from him, there would be no accidental trespassing. Oxsana was available to help as well, if Harry's mind started to drift or he were struggling for an answer, she could and would bolster the barriers between his mind and the Professor's.

Harry was, however, well prepared for the examination, and he had no struggles in recalling the relevant information. The challenge of the exam for him was how to structure his essay responses and manage his time efficiently and effectively. The practical parts of the exam were no problem for him at all. He finished the full exam in comfortable time, perhaps leaving a bit to be desired in the area of his penmanship, but otherwise doing a very good job.

Just before the luncheon break, Harry sought out Professor Lockhart, entering his classroom as his morning class exited.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry greeted his nemesis cautiously, Oxsana alert and ready to spring if the man made the slightest twitch towards his wand. She also had massive guarding shields up around Harry's mind, lest the criminal be able to cast a memory attack wandlessly.

"Hello, Harry..." Lockhart responded, looking about nervously, trying to assure that no one was close enough to overhear them.

"Sir, I've come to apologize to you for what I wrote in my exam paper yesterday. I'm not sure how it happened, but I believe it worked out to cheating in some way, and I'm here to confess that, and take whatever is coming to me." He said quietly, making no reference to the revelations documented in the second part of the exam.

"I see," Lockhart responded, as his mind raced with this new information. Harry could nearly hear the wheels turning in Lockhart's skull, as he tried to work out a new tactic to deal with the situation. "Cheating... that's a very serious infraction here, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, it is." Harry nodded.

"If I were to report you for cheating, the consequences could be quite... erm... severe, could they not?" and Lockhart's expression seemed to be shifting from anxiety and a touch of desperation, to some degree of hope.

"Yes, sir. I could be expelled, or... there are some harsh alternatives."

"I see. Well, we'd hate to see any of that happen now, would we?" as his voice took on an oleaginous tone of shared conspiracy.

"I would certainly prefer some alternative, yes, sir," as Harry nearly gagged on having to play this cooperative role.

"I can keep a secret, Harry. How about yourself?" as the Professor seemed to be sizing up his chances of striking a deal with the boy.

"I'm sure we could work something out, sir. I don't even know where that whole second part of the exam came from. That just came out of my head. I have no evidence, no proof of anything there."

"Ah... well, then... I propose we come to a simple agreement, then. I shall keep your secret, and keep your cheating to myself... and you keep your speculations on my adventures to yourself as well. Give me your word you will not tell anyone about your fictitious conjectures, and we'll just put this whole unfortunate business behind us. How does that sound?"

"That sounds fine, sir. I give you my word, I will tell no one what I wrote on that paper. How's that?"

"Would you make an Unbreakable Vow, or swear by your Magic to that effect?" Lockhart narrowed his eyes making this proposal.

"I'm not allowed, and I have some limiting charms on me against doing that, sir. But I can certainly enter into a covenant hex, swearing that if I disclose what I wrote there, I will be compelled to confess to my cheating on the exam. Will that do?"

"Perhaps." Lockhart thought for a bit. "I've heard it rumored that you are now the ward of Professor Konstantyn. Is that true?"

"Yes, I am," Harry admitted, looking down as if embarrassed.

"He is very strict, isn't he? He'd not be pleased to know you cheated on a major test, would he?" Lockhart smiled, with an expression of apparent triumph.

"Yes, he is, Professor. And I'm sure that would disappoint him deeply," Harry spoke in low tones.

"More to the point, young man, the consequences would be... substantial... would they not?"

"Yes, sir. No doubt they would."

"Then I will accept your offer. Swear it!"

Harry drew his wand and spoke, "I hereby swear in the presence of Magic that if I disclose the speculations I wrote on this Defense Against the Dark Arts examination to anyone, this curse will compel me to disclose cheating on this exam to my guardian, Professor Pavel Konstantyn -"

"Add your Head of House and the Headmaster to that -" Lockhart interrupted.

"as well as to Professor Minerva McGonagall, and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."

A low rumble rolled through the room, the distinctive sound of an oath attested by Magic.

"Very well then, Harry. We shall consider this unfortunate incident to be just a misunderstanding left behind us, then. Shall we?" and Lockhard insisted on flashing his award-winning smile, along with that ridiculous single-huff laugh of his.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your understanding," Harry managed to say humbly, as he put his wand away and turned towards the door. He wanted nothing more than to escape without further conversation, and headed briskly for the Great Hall.

 _"Well done, Harry," Pavel mind-spoke, having monitored the entire conversation both through Harry and Oxsana's point of view. "It never even occurred to him that you may already have admitted what happened. That kind of integrity is just so far from our man's ethics, he never considered the possibility that his offer of cover up was already a day too late. You didn't lie, you didn't break any rules. Your self-curse is already mooted, so powerless. Good job all around. I'm going to keep you 'yellow carded' for just one week, while he settles down from this scare. If he tries nothing in that time, we'll bring you back to 'green card'. Understood?"_

 _"Yes, sir," Harry responded, as he made his way to the Great Hall. "I don't really LIKE it, but I know that will make no difference." Harry laughed as he arrived for noontime dinner._

 _"Right you are, my son. No difference at all. I want you safe and alert against any potential threat from him. Be grateful I'm not holding it until he's completely neutralized. That may yet take us a while." Pavel continued._

 _"Yes, sir. I'm not even arguing. I am perfectly grateful. By the way," he continued, "how ARE we planning to neutralize him?"_

 _"I'm not sure yet. I'd like to salvage him if possible, but I'm just not sure it can be done." Pavel's tone had a sad edge to it._

 _"Ah well, I'm just glad that's over with for now."_

 _"I, too, son. Enjoy your meal, your afternoon is free if you want to join Ivan outside on your broom. I know you're looking forward to Quidditch practice and speed riding."_

 _"Thanks, Papa!" Harry cheered up considerably as he sat down to eat._

* * *

"I have an idea on how to help Professor Lockhart," John opened the conversation at the Head Table.

Pavel cast a privacy spell to cover their deliberations as John continued.

"What if I were to 'assist' Gilderoy with his DADA class, in much the same way I assist Madame Hooch? The Professor can continue to teach 'theory' in his lectures 'from his published works', while I take on 'practical exercises' for half his class time? We can cover discernment of enchanted items - cursed, blessed, or unaffected - along with such things as: curses, countercurses, hexes, dangerous magical creatures commonly encountered, and start to introduce simple mage senses. I can expand our work on dueling and combat magic, applying practical drill crossing over between DADA and Physical Education."

Pavel nodded as he thought this through. "This would allow you both to render students' DADA education more valuable, at the same time as keeping an eye - and some control - on Lockhart. I see the advantages there. What do you think?" Pavel turned towards Minerva, Severus, and Albus.

"I think anything that puts a competent instructor into that classroom with students is an advantage," Minerva huffed, making no bones about her opinion.

Snape slowly shook his head to contribute, "I'm sure you know, and need no words from me regarding my opinion of Gilderoy Lockhart. I shall spare Professor Konstantyn the strain of refraining from correcting me for expressing that opinion here."

This drew a chuckle of thanks from Pavel, along with a bark of laughter from John.

"I wonder, however," John continued, "whether the good Master Lockhart might need a bit of persuasion to our view?"

"Perhaps," Pavel mused. "Perhaps a quiet visit in the night, eh?" and he gave Ivan a pensive sidelong look as he pondered his plans... "Minerva? May Harry stay in our quarters this evening? I should like to take him on a bit of a journey deep in the night. Since tomorrow is Saturday, and his detentions being finished, we needn't worry about him being up for breakfast. Most likely he will be fine tomorrow, but for tonight I'd like him to spend the night in his room."

"Of course, Pavel. That will be fine. I shall let the proctors know. Let me know if you need anything else."

Albus looked over curiously. "Anything here I should know about, Professor?" he asked, noting with some concern the expression of calculation on his old friend's face.

"I think not, Headmaster. What I have in mind is most likely not covered within the regulations of the school, but 'better to beg forgiveness...' as they say," Pavel chuckled.

"I see. Well, forget I asked," Albus replied.

Everyone returned dutifully to their meals, inquiring no further.

* * *

By 9:00 Ron and Hermione had gone home while Harry's nose was still buried deep in the first chapter of _Transfiguration and Animagick_ , entitled "The Nature of Biomorphism". It was pretty heavy going, and a lot of the concepts were over his head for the moment, but knowing that John was a Life Mage, Harry figured he could either get tutoring or at least direction to some references that would help.

The book was clearly not written in the last half of THIS century, being replete with words such as "wherefore", "albeit", and "prithee". For example: "He who wouldst practice such an audacious magick as to transform the _humani corporis anatome_ into an alien bestial form, had best reflect intensely aforehand upon centering the personal idiom securely within the self."

Determined he was, however, to make it through the work without flagging or complaining. He wondered, within himself, if that was not Professor McGonagall's private hope, that he would become discouraged and give up this quest. He knew if it came down to it, he could count on Hermione's help. But he was determined to give this a strong shot on his own, and see if he could master it. Even a cursory reading, though, gave him some sense of how terribly wrong a botched transformation could go. He was glad that he'd get to check his understanding both with Professor McGonagall and the family, before trying any of this. At least, that's what he was thinking right now. He'd have to see how he felt when he'd read a bit more.

Pavel watched the boy poring over the text, smiling with satisfaction to see how intently he was determined to work through this task he had set for himself. It was almost a shame to disturb his concentration, but he needed to discuss tonight's foray with him.

"Harry? May I interrupt your studies there for a moment?" he began.

"Sure, Papa," Harry answered, putting a bookmark in place to mark his page. Dog-earing ANY tome in Hogwart's made for a short trip to Library detention, from any classroom... or, probably, from here as well. "What's up?" John and Oxsana, also quietly reading together in front of the fire, also put their books down to listen.

"If you're up for a bit of adventure, I invite you to accompany me on an unusual journey tonight. You know I am a Mind Mage, and in that arena I often make use of the Dreamscape for a variety of purposes. Tonight, I am planning to use Professor Lockhart's dreamscape to communicate with him and implant some instructions to him in such a way that they are unlikely to be ignored. I am going to invade his mind, trigger his fears, and intimidate him into agreeing to be monitored and assisted in his course for the rest of this academic year. I will do this in part for your protection, and in part for the benefit of Hogwarts students in their Dark Arts studies. Are you willing to accompany me?"

"Sure! I mean... Yeah, I'd love to. But... what do you mean 'accompany you'? How do I do that?" Harry's expression reflected both excitement and confusion at the same time.

"Harry, I'm going to ask you simply to trust me. I don't want to give you more information because I don't want to interfere with your ability to fall asleep. You won't need to do anything except go to bed at an appropriate time, and sleep in a natural way. I shall come to you in your dreams, and we will proceed from there. All you need do is obey me as we journey. Fair enough? Can you just trust me? It is said 'There are those who can extrapolate from incomplete information, and...' " and Pavel returned to his book of poetry without another word.

It took a moment before Harry started laughing... then opened his own book again, and returned to his studies.

* * *

Pavel made his typical pyrrhic protests to Harry's inevitable request for a story at bedtime, then happily sat down to begin his traditional, "Vonce upon a time..." THIS time, however, he'd crafted the story and pitched his voice in so sonorous a way that he lulled Harry into sleep with unnatural speed. Upon confirming that Harry's heavy regular breathing denoted true sleep, Pavel quietly quitted his room and rejoined John and Oxsana.

"No need for me?" John asked, softly. "I was ready with soporific acceleration if needed.

"Nay, my son. I have more than sufficient vocal control and decades of lecturing experience with which to put a child to sleep when I choose. I suspect I could simply have read random passages from the textbook he's studying, and found that more than sufficient."

"I KNOW!" John laughed. "Mercy, Papa! Have you SEEN that thing? Was it written by Professor Binns? It's just AWFUL!"

"Don't critique what you've not tried, my son. Writing instructions for dangerous magic isn't easy in ANY age, and it's not the fault of the text that it is 250 years old. Consensus opinion has been to err on the side of caution. If a witch or wizard hasn't the discipline or wisdom to either make their way through the text, or seek out a master to guide them, they're best advised not to attempt the magic. The last thing Hogwarts needs is a copy of _"The Idiot's Guide to Animagus Transformation"_ , nor does such work lend itself readily to Cliff Notes.

"Now, I, for one, am going to go lie down and get some rest. I plan to rise and get Harry at 3:00 a.m. when I am certain Lockhart will be deeply in his dream state. If the two of you are willing, I'd not be averse to some backup on this. Oxsana, if you would be kind enough to accompany me, and Ivan if you can remain by Harry's side should he experience any difficulties, that would be wonderful.

"Of course, Papa Pavel, it will be my pleasure to take part. And if you think we could budge Big Brother here from Harry's side this first time... you've not been paying attention. I swear, Ivan frets over Harry like a mother hen!" Oxsana teased.

"Hardly!" John pulled an offended face at his fiancee. "Papa's always on me about letting Harry take too many risks!"

"Pfft! It's not the risks I mind, but the mischief you approve! But enough of this for now. You two behave, and I shall see you in a little bit."

"Night, Papa!" John called cheerily, as he and Oxsana returned to reading on the couch alone by the fire.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	12. Dragonsleep

**Dragonsleep**

At 3:00 Pavel rose from his rest with the silence of a morning mist rising from a fallow field. He found John already sitting alongside Harry's bed, and Oxsana silently waiting for him at the living room fireplace. From here forward, only mind-speech was used, not to disturb Harry's sleep with any extraneous sound.

It warmed Pavel's heart to watch Ivan sitting over Harry, covering his peaceful sleeping form with his concern and care. In that very brief moment of reflection, Pavel stopped to just capture and crystalize the realization that he was the most fortunate of fathers... to have two such noble sons... as the entire family were all so bonded together in their love, trust, and caretaking.

Now, it was time to extend that caretaking and protection into a realm of deep darkness, in the mind, memory, and imagination of Gilderoy Lockhart. This would require great care on Pavel's part, not only to perform "brain surgery" from inside Lockhart's head... but not to shock or hopelessly confuse Harry as his accompanist, and even more importantly, not to tempt Harry to enter an abominable dimension of potential bullying.

 _"Right," Pavel mind-spoke to both Ivan and Oxsana, as he walked to his accustomed armchair near the fireplace in the living room, sat back comfortably, and closed his eyes alongside Oxsana seated at his right hand. "Ve begin..." as in their minds' eyes Pavel and Oxsana took ghostly transluscent forms and walked into Harry's bedroom gently to rouse him. Or rather, NOT to rouse him, but to enter his dreams and invite him along._

John watched calmly as the diaphenous shapes beside him appeared to stream as vapor into the skull of Harry and the scene they all watched together dissolved into a Quidditch Pitch, with Harry - not surprisingly - chasing down a Snitch. Pavel and Oxsana appeared as normal substantial people standing on the ground at the edge of the pitch during what appeared to be a match between Slytherin and Gryffindor House. Harry caught the snitch, without injury this time, held it aloft to hear Madame Hooch's whistle and cry of "Gryffindor WINS!", and zoomed to where Pavel was standing to shout, "Did you see me, Papa? I DID IT!"

It tugged at Pavel's heart to realize that this simple act, publicly to rejoice to his parent after winning a game, is denied to Harry in real life... but comprises his dreams. Well, this coming summer Pavel could address some of that. But not here at Hogwarts, not yet anyway.

"I DID see it, my son!" Pavel enthused in this dreamscape before all of Harry's friends and teammates. "Well done, my boy! Now, do you think I could tear you away for a bit, to go on an adventure with me?"

"Sure, Papa. That sounds like fun!" and, consistent with dreamcraft, the entire Quidditch Pitch and scene just dissolved around Harry, as he took Pavel's hand and walked alongside him and Oxsana through what looked like a misty tunnel, dimly lit from the sides and top. They exited onto a flat empty field of packed clay dirt, bounded at some distance by what looked like jagged mountainous peaks that encircled them. Pavel released Harry's hand so that he could look about and get his bearings.

"Where are we, Papa?" Harry asked in a generally curious tone, betraying no worry or anxiety.

"At this moment, we are within the dreams of Gilderoy Lockhart," Pavel replied.

"Eeewww!" Harry's face skewed up in an expression of distaste, as his head rapidly spun as if expecting the odious professor to leap out from behind some obscuring bush.

"Peace, son," Pavel calmed the boy, "We won't encounter him until we seek him out, and that will be decidedly on our OWN terms, no fear. Now, do you feel comfortable and balanced at the moment?"

Harry looked around, saw Pavel and Oxsana standing there alongside him, and did a slow turn taking in the environment. They stood on a reddish dusty plain that seemed to go on in all directions. At the edge of his vision was this ridge of seeming mountain peaks, all illuminated as if from the glow of sunset behind them. The light came from all directions as well, so it was pretty strange looking. But nothing seemed threatening or fearful, so he said, "Yes, Papa. Everything seems fine, though I'm not sure what kind of place this is."

"All right, then," Pavel continued. He stood there now holding his Staff, which he planted in the ground. "Let's see what our friend is doing, in his imagination, at this moment."

As they looked, a scene opened up projected from the head of the Staff, showing Lockhart riding his broom through blue skies with white puffy clouds in the background, wind whistling through his golden locks, cape billowing out behind him as he sailed along in what he no doubt considered a brave and adventurous posture. They became aware that he was thinking of undertaking some courageous adventure of the sorts he narrated so often in his books. But as yet, he had no particular objective or target.

"Perfect!" Pavel muttered. "Let us give him some 'prey' to hunt, shall we?" And Pavel's eyes closed momentarily as the image of a massive dragon formed in Lockhart's mind's eye, and he began a determined flight towards his goal. "I don't even have to urge him forward, beyond showing him the bait!" Pavel said. "I only showed him the dragon and a direction, and he's off and running."

"What's our plan, Papa?" Harry asked, smiling with anticipation.

"Well, if you don't mind riding a dragon, my son, I plan to join him and let him chase us for a while. Then turn and have a 'little chat' with him. He will come to realize that it is in his best interests to fear you... Or, rather, to fear the idea of any harm coming to you, in any form, ever. My experience has led me to believe that in dragon form, I can be most persuasive with those of questionable ethics."

"So..." Harry began, digesting all this, "you are going to take on a dragon form, and I am to ride atop you?"

"That's what I'm thinking, yes." Pavel nodded.

"Brilliant!" Harry grinned, as Pavel transformed in his draconic self. His arms stretched out wide as a brilliant golden mist enveloped him and expanded to massive proportions. The mist dissipated to reveal a huge - to Harry - dragon, easily 30 meters long snout to tail, with a body larger than an elephant. The Dragon turned to Harry, leaning down low in front and extending the right foreleg to provide a step for mounting to the shoulder.

Harry looked at his "mounting block" for a moment, but hesitated. Pavel encouraged him with mind-speak, "Climb aboard, Harry. This should be no harder than riding a broom. Quite a bit easier, in fact."

"I understand, Papa. But... may I try something first? Just by way of experiment for a moment?" Harry countered.

Pavel relaxed his posture, sitting in a more comfortable position. "Yes, if we don't take too terribly long about it. I don't think Lockhart will waken easily, but we don't have all night, either."

"This won't be long, Papa. Just give me a moment..." Harry said, as he placed his right hand and arm out in front of him and focused on them intently. His expression grew into one of serious concentration, at first drawing his brows into an anxious frown of strain and effort. His hand began to glow and change in shape and color, whereby Harry's expression became more relaxed as that glow grew, climbing up his arm to envelop his entire body in what seemed to be a mist quite a few shades less intense than that of Pavel.

Process complete, Harry declared in a voice of sheer triumph... "Look! Papa! I DID it! I THOUGHT I could, but I wasn't sure! Isn't this neat?" as, sure enough, Harry Potter had succeeded in tranfiguring himself into... a dragon. It was quite a small dragon, to be sure. More of a wyvern to be perfectly frank. But transformation complete, nonetheless.

Pavel... was shocked.

Oxsana... was laughing delightedly. "That's AMAZING, Harry. Well done!" she said, actually elbowing Pavel in the ribs to remind him to comment appropriately.

Harry was so astonished with his accomplishment he'd not yet noticed his father's silence, or worried about it. Instead, he was rolling his shoulders and twisting his torso, trying to feel the controls for his wings. These were two appendages he had never experienced before, and like any fledgling, or a toddler learning to walk, it felt awkward to control muscles he had never had before.

Pavel was still silent.

It took Harry less than a minute to realize that he controlled his wings through his pectoral girdle, extending them by expanding his ribcage as though taking a deep breath, and compressing them to flap by tensing his chest as if "striking a pose" of a bodybuilder in front of the locker room mirrors.

Yet, Pavel stood by mute, watching.

One more minute, and he'd discovered the rolling rhythm of his shoulders to "beat his wings" to generate lift. Thirty seconds later, and the boy was flying under his own power. He didn't go too high or too fast, being mindful that it wasn't falling that would hurt as much as that sudden stop at meeting the ground. His very first landing was from a simple glide down, then skidding along the ground letting his feet serve as brakes.

Pavel was "watching his thinking" through all this, seeing Harry discover and reason his way through this without distracting or interrupting him. It was amazing to watch, though.

Harry stood on the ground for a bit and taught his wings to "backstroke", was the way he thought of it. It was like doing the backstroke while swimming. He then tried another low and slow flight, but instead of gliding to a stop he used his backstroke to brake, and found how to "loft", how to push air at the ground and come down on it as a cushion.

Pavel was pretty sure what would happen next, and he found he was right.

This time, Harry launched upwards at a steep angle and fairly high speed, gaining altitude in spirals, then turning figure 8's up high enough to be safe, then a few turns about a point at steep bank angles, then diving towards the ground - not quite as fast or steeply as he did on a broom, but still steep enough - to air-skid into a backstroking cushion to a pinpoint stop.

And that was that. Pavel watched his fledgling son teach himself to fly. It had taken less than five minutes. _"Damn," Pavel thought to himself. "Why didn't I see this coming? The conditions were perfect and this was predictable. All evening the boy steeped himself in animagic, then I bring him to a Dreamscape where his will working and imago will have maximum effectiveness, and I transform in front of him so that he sees it modeled. Why didn't I expect this? Ah, well, nothing for it now."_

Pavel the Dragon stood still as Harry the Wyvern waddled/slithered over to him to rub his head up along Pavel's chest saying, "What do you think, Papa? Did I do all right?"

"Yes, my son! Far more than 'all right'! That was brilliantly done," and Pavel let all the pride he felt radiate out to Harry. The boy had so many years being deprived of approval and expressions of pride when he had accomplished things... Pavel didn't have the heart to deny any of it now, even though this was the last thing he'd hoped would happen tonight. "I don't suppose there's any point to my asking you to turn back into a little boy, so we can execute our first plan for Professor Lockhart, is there?"

It's tough for a dragon, or wyvern for that matter, to look disappointed. Harry managed it, however. "I'll obey you, of course, if you tell me to. But isn't there some way we can do this with me in this form, Papa? And, can you tell me what I've messed up, by the way? I wanted to take the form of a full dragon your size. I'm really small. There are no mirrors here. Am I a dragon?"

"Yes, Harry. You probably are a dragon, though you are the size of a dragon-like creature called a Wyvern. To change your mass radically enough to take on a size this large, requires more magic than simply the transformation. You have accomplished the transfiguration, but you've not yet learned how to increase your mass sufficiently at the same time. you've done amazingly for a first effort, so don't give that a second thought.

"Now, I understand how you feel, so I think we can adjust our plan to let you stay in that form. We will need to Blink, however. Take a moment, fly a few more laps here, and see if you can blink to and from where I am standing as you see line of sight. Try blinking outwards towards the mountains, then back, as you are flying."

Harry managed it, after a few stuttering attempts. He learned he had to time the blinks properly in his wing-beating rhythm, or he'd begin to fall and have to recover.

"Right then," Pavel nodded his massive head once Harry had mastered aerial blinking. "Are we ready?" he asked, spreading his massive wings. This sent a ripple along his body, as the iridescent violet/magenta tinge of his scales seemed to flash into green/gold. His coloration reminded Harry of the inside of some large sea shells... abalone, he thought... or the neck feathers of pheasants or some kinds of duck, that looked one color from one direction, and something entirely other when you turned it.

"Yes, Papa," Harry answered.

"Indeed," Oxsana replied, as she took a form similar to Harry's and stood alongside him. "I shall accompany you, Harry. I'll not be visible, but if you need anything just reach to me in your thoughts and I'll be with you instantly."

"Thank you," Harry smiled. He knew he wanted to do things on his own, but he was no fool. This was a strange environment, an enemy or at least a potential threat was here, and he was doing something in a form he'd never known before. Having "backup" was a benefit he was learning to appreciate, just in case anything happened.

"All right, Harry, see that greenish glow out there on the horizon, beyond the ridge?" Pavel asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded.

"Take off and fly at your most comfortable speed towards that. I shall be just a bit behind you and here to your left. I shall follow so that my backwash, the air coming from my wings, doesn't interfere with your flight. Also, your best speed should be slower than mine, and I don't want you having to try to keep up... though I'm sure - " he interrupted, as he could feel Harry beginning to protest - "that you could keep up with me easily. I have a new plan for how we handle Professor Lockhart. One I think you will enjoy."

"What's that, Papa?" he asked, ask he leapt into the air, and began flying towards the indicated green glow.

"Gilderoy fancies that he is out here dragon-hunting. All right then. Do you suppose you can tease and bait him into chasing you? It would take a bit of aerobatic flying, I suspect. I'm sure he'll use his wand to try to stun you."

"Pah!" Harry exclaimed, almost spitting with contempt. "Just let him try!"

"Bear in mind, Harry. We are in HIS dreamscape, so it's likely that he will have better abilities here than he does out in the waking world. He may be stronger or cannier than you anticipate. Don't underestimate him!"

"Yes, Papa," Harry answered, in that "dutiful son" tone that Pavel recognized as indicating no sincere acknowledgment whatever.

 _Pavel mind-spoke privately to Oxsana, "Let him take what risks he chooses. If he gets stunned, cover him and prevent injury. Don't necessarily prevent him from being hit, or even hurt. But do prevent him from being harmed."_

 _"Yes, sir. I understand. Underestimation kills..." she paused. "But John won't like it," she chuckled._

 _"Ivan isn't here! And he'd keep the boy from a skinned knee if he could! Even though he lets him take ridiculous chances! Don't get me started... we're here to work."_

 _"Yes, sir. Sorry," she replied, not sounding the least bit contrite._

"Harry? I'm going to turn circles over here near this cliff and peak," Pavel said, projecting a location to Harry's mind's eye. "You are to bait and tease him into chasing you to right HERE - " indicating a large cavern in the cliff face. "Think you can do that?"

"Yes, indeed!" Harry answered. "Bob's yer uncle. Ever seen blue jays harrying a hawk? I can do this."

"Very well," Pavel responded, as they arrived at the rocks, cliff, and cavern Pavel had created as scenery of this dream. "Off you go. You should see him incoming from your right..."

"Got him! See you soon, Papa!"

"Just be careful, son," Pavel sent his blessings, as he watched the scene through both his own vision, as he entered the cavern to perch near the lip of the cliff face, and through Oxsana's point of view as she held station wingtip to wingtip off to Harry's right.

She set her will to synchronize with Harry's, so she duplicated each of his movements the instant he made them. Unless he came within 10 feet of Lockhart, she would remain clear of the action while still just inches away from him in case anything went wrong. She would also feel what he felt if he got hit, though it would not incapacitate her to any degree and she could rescue if needed.

Lockhart's crystal blue sky contained cotton-candy white puffy clouds and a brilliant ball of sunshine. Harry climbed well above Lockhart's altitude before being spotted, and worked his way around to place himself between the professor and the brilliant sun. Lockhart had his wand already out in his hand as he scanned the terrain for any evidence of a convenient dragon looking to be conquered.

Suddenly, Harry screamed a glass-shattering screech, as he tucked his wings up for a plummeting dive towards Lockhart.

Gilderoy was taken utterly by surprise as he looked up and left towards the terrifying sound, finding himself blinded by the brilliant radiance, yet unable to tear his gaze from the rapidly growing shadow silhouette of what he had thought - up to now - as being his quarry. A second shriek made his blood run cold as his fingers numbed nearly dropping his wand.

Harry continued to plummet towards the hapless professor, as the man didn't even have the sense to turn his broom in an evasive maneuver. Harry had to duck off to the left at the last instant to avoid simply crashing into him.

Spinning left and continuing downwards, Harry swooped into an upwards arc, drawing Lockhart into his path with the vacuum caused by his own wake turbulence. He rolled left for a count of three, then rolled into a hard right just as a blaze of light brushed past his belly to where he'd been a moment before.

Sheer euphoria gripped Harry as his thought became motion, and he rolled left again, but just enough to bring his wings level with the horizon and dive forwards for speed. Gilderoy followed, as best he could, shooting _"Stupefy!"_ , and _"Immobilis!"_ every few seconds, but missing every time.

Harry got to the bottom of his dive, and turned sharply upwards, planning to loop around behind Lockhart. About halfway through the maneuver, he suddenly wondered if Wyverns COULD fly upside down... but realized it was too late to worry about that now. Fortunately for him, Gilderoy was not nearly so adept on a broom as Harry was, and couldn't do a full loop to save his life.

Lockhart suddenly found himself, rather than chasing his little dragon, being chased BY it. He wasn't happy. Lockhart tried every twist, turn, climb, dive, or skid he could imagine a broom doing... and failed to gain any distance on his pursuer at all. Apparently Lockhard didn't even have the sense to imagine that he could ride a broom better than this in his own dreams!

Pavel allowed Harry about one more minute of enjoyment chasing Lockhart all over creation before clearing his throat. _"Ahem..." he mind-spoke to Harry. "Son? We're here on a mission, remember?"_

Even wyverns can blush, though it's difficult to discern. This one did. _"Sorry, Papa. I sort of lost track. OK, be right there..." and Harry broke off his chase to reorient himself._ He got his bearings and located the relevant cliff face in the distance, then started cutting across Gilderoy's path as he gradually made their way towards the cavern. He continued to evade, rolling left or right at seemingly random intervals, managing to avoid each blast of magic Lockhart cast.

 _"Good, Harry... Now come to me and land at my side," Pavel instructed, as he saw Harry approach._

Harry obeyed without even a whine.

Lockhart had watched his quarry fly into the dark entrance to the cavern, even seeing him prepare to land on its floor, without seeing the deeply dark colored dragon perched within. His eyes weren't the least bit adjusted from brilliant sunlight as he cast one last spell at the Wyvern Harry, only to see it dissipate against a huge wing that drew itself to shield the little one like a theater curtain.

Comically, Lockhart's vision slowly adjusted to the lighting, and his eyes traced the webs of that wing up to its top, then across to the shoulder, then gradually forward until his gaze met.. the EYES.

Gilderoy's knees locked as his entire body froze stiff, trapped in the golden gaze of the gigantic dragon. What had begun as a lovely dream of daring doo had somehow decomposed into a nightmare.

"GILDEROY LOCKHART!" the sibilant thrum of the deep throated dragon's voice echoed through the man's very soul.

Lockhart would have responded, nodded, grunted... anything... if he could have moved at all. But he couldn't.

"YOU HAVE CHASSSED AND ATTACKED MY SSSON!"

Lockhart still could not move.

Ever so slowly, the huge dragon walked over to where he stood, and ponderously grasped him with a single taloned foot, laying him down on the ground beneath him.

Lockhart wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to run. Wanted to anything... but all he could do was look straight up above him at the massive ponderous reptile's head, and pray he did not step down onto the foot with which he was held.

"WHEN YOU THREATEN THE YOUNG, YOU RUN THE RISK OF ANGERING THEIR ELDERS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Gilderoy found he could now move enough to nod and speak. "Y-Y-Yes... Yes, I do."

"YOU HAVE THREATENED A YOUNG. THAT YOUNG ONE HAS FRIENDS... ALLIES... SOME OF US, VERY DANGEROUS ALLIES."

Lockhart was so confused, or so terrified, he could not imagine what this dragon was talking about.

"YOU HAVE THREATENED HARRY POTTER. THAT WAS A MISTAKE. ANOTHER TEACHER WILL NOW OFFER TO HELP YOU WITH YOUR CLASSES. YOU WILL ACCEPT THAT HELP. YOU WILL NEVER THREATEN HARRY POTTER, NOR EVEN THINK ABOUT HARMING HIM, EVER AGAIN."

"Harry? The Potter boy? He's the one doing this? How? How can that be?" Lockhart was shaking his head in disbelief.

"NO, YOU FOOL. POTTER IS NOT DOING THIS! POTTER IS JUST A BOY! BUT HE HAS FRIENDS, OF WHOM YOU KNOW NOTHING. WE WILL NOT ALLOW HIM TO COME TO HARM. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Ye-Ye-Yes. I understand..." and suddenly Lockhart realized this was all just a dream, a terrible nightmare. Soon he would wake up, write all this off to indigestion, and his world would be fine again.

The Dragon shook his head, almost sadly, "I SEE I MUST MAKE A BELIEVER OF YOU. YES, YOU BEGAN THIS AS A DREAM. BUT I AM QUITE REAL, AS ARE THE CONSEQUENCES OF IGNORING MY WARNING. LET ME LEAVE YOU WITH A SIGN, PROOF OF THIS WARNING. AND AFTER YOU WAKEN REMEMBER THIS, MORE THAN ONE WIZARD HAS BEEN KNOWN TO DIE QUIETLY IN THEIR SLEEP. NOW..." so saying, he held the Professor down gently, balancing his weight on the back spur of that foot, pinning Lockhart gently but firmly. He bent down close to the wizard, reaching out with his forelegs pulling his left arm clear of his containment. Quick as lightning he raked his foreclaws down the outside of Lockhart's arm shredding his clothing, bloodying the ground as the professor screamed with the pain. "YOU WILL HEAL IN TIME, BUT THE SCARS SHOULD ALWAYS REMIND YOU. THIS IS REAL. NEVER EVER THREATEN HARRY POTTER AGAIN. A WORD TO THE WISE... DON'T THREATEN CHILDREN AT ALL."

With these words the dragon released him and stepped back, leaving him sitting on the rocky floor of the cavern as he turned to Harry and said, "Let's go."

Harry said nothing as he watched the dragon step off from the lip of the entrance, to plummet a bit before spreading his wings. Still in a bit of shock at seeing Pavel slice open Lockhart in cold blood, it took a moment before he realized Papa had taken off that way so that he could take off and fly without backwash upending him. He sprang into the air and followed, taking a line to approach Pavel from well alongside, as the larger serpent kept the pace they had used to get here. As long as Harry stayed outside Pavel's wingspan, the air was still and calm.

Harry reached out gently with his mind, touching Pavel, then Oxsana, with a curiosity that they were well. He felt a sense of assurance that they were, and realized he'd just cast a "mind net" as Papa used when checking on the children. There had been so much new to think about in this trip... Dreamwalking, animorphing, aerial dogfighting with Lockhart, Papa threatening him, then Papa wounding him so viciously...

Papa led them back to the plain where they'd begun their flight. Pavel transformed back into his human form, as did Oxsana - becoming visible again.

"Now, Harry, return to your human shape, please," Pavel instructed.

Harry wasn't sure he knew how to do that. More accurately, he wasn't sure he wanted to. And that was messing him up. He stared at his hand again... actually his forefoot... and tried to picture his own hand, at the same time that he really wanted to keep flying a bit more. He wasn't trying to be defiant, it just wasn't working for him. He opened all this to Pavel.

Pavel nodded. "I understand, Harry. Try to think of only one thing. Think about where we want to go. We are currently in Lockhart's mind, and we certainly don't want to stay here. NOW is a time I'll let you think all the bad things of Lockhart you want! If it helps you want to leave here. Think of your room, your friends, your life out there... of Quidditch... of Ivan sitting loyally worrying about you at your bedside. Think of all those things and WANT to return to your true form so that we can go home..."

Slowly, methodically, Harry did as he instructed, and between his disdain for being trapped in Lockhart's head, and his desire to get back to Hogwarts and see if he could become a wyvern again, he managed to clean up his desire and intention well enough to form the passion and imago required to revert to his humanity.

"Thank you, son," Pavel said, matter-of-factly, "you've performed very very well this night. Let's head home then..." and together they headed back into the tunnel they'd traversed to get here, ending up at the apparent Quidditch Pitch of Hogwarts. "I shall leave you here then, and you may return to your regularly scheduled dreams, eh?"

"Er, OK. So that's it, then?" Harry asked.

"For now. You've done quite well, and we shall see you at breakfast. Goodnight, Scamp," and Pavel touseled his hair as so often he did, as Harry tried to turn away with a groan. A moment later, Pavel and Oxsana had vanished, as Harry went back to flying on his broom, and his natural sleep processes took over.

Pavel and Oxsana opened their eyes and walked in to John where he sat with Harry. Harry had rolled from one side to the other in the time they were away, but nothing more impressive or disturbing had happened affecting his body.

John rose silently as he saw them approach, and Pavel opened the memory of their time so that he missed nothing. He wasn't happy at the possibility of Harry getting hit with a painful spell cast by Lockhart, but he knew there was no point arguing about it. Papa was adamant about pain being its own teacher, and he insisted that John was too protective. But aside from all that there was just amazement that Harry had managed the transformation, even in a dreamscape.

 _"What do you think, Papa? Has he learned to do it out here in the waking world?" John mind-spoke, shaking his head as he considered._

 _"I wouldn't put it past him, son. He has such strong intuition about magic, it seems like he 'feels' his way to the right techniques. We'll have to wait and see."_

 _"Agreed. Well, it's been quite a night. I'm ready for bed, and we'll see what the morrow brings with Lockhart. Should be a fun weekend, no?" John laughed._

 _"Indeed!" Pavel laughed, all in silent mind-speak, yet letting Harry sleep. "Goodnight, children."_

 _"Night!" they echoed, as all headed off to their bedrooms._

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	13. Time Off for Good Behaviour

**Time Off for Good Behaviour**

Harry woke Saturday morning with a lazy sense that all was right with the world. The simulated sky on his bedroom ceiling showed slate gray overcast weather, as sunlight fought its way through smutty cold clouds. He knew it would be cold and blustery out when he went flying, but that was fine by him. One thing about the extra armors he had to wear, at least they kept him comfortable in cold weather. As he reached to put on his glasses his mind reached back to remember his dreams of the prior night, and he stopped still when he recalled. He'd been a dragon. Well, if not an entire dragon, at least a baby one... or a wyvern, or whatever Papa'd called it. Had he really done that, he wondered?

Silently, he crept from his bed and checked the time. It was already 8:00, but he knew he didn't have to be anywhere particular this morning. Detentions were finished, mid term examinations were finished, there was no Quidditch match today, just a scheduled practice in the afternoon. He knew Papa, John, and Oxsana were probably sitting around the dining table outside his room, sipping coffee or tea, nibbling morning pastries. At 8:30 Papa and John would probably go to the Great Hall out of politeness, as faculty were expected. But this would pretty much be a "free day", Papa had said, after all the excitement of this whole first half of the semester. We'd have a chance to "catch our breath" and hopefully relax a bit.

The Autumn half term holiday began in the middle of this week, and they would be off for 10 whole days. Papa, John and Oxsana had already accepted an invitation to visit the Weasley's over the holiday, and invited them to visit as well. John, in his American persona, had invited the whole Weasley clan to celebrate "Thanksgiving", with he and Oxsana making all the preparations - with a little help from some elves. There were guest quarters, houses, Gasthausen, on the grounds of the Chalet and one was being prepared to accommodate all the Weasley's to stay overnight from one to three days if they wanted to. Papa had said he was hoping to get some time apart with Mr. Weasley to discuss Ministry matters if the chance presented itself.

Harry knew he should probably just get his clothing and head off to the bathroom to shower and change. But he just had to know... he couldn't wait. He turned on his lamp, sat crosslegged on his bed, and stared at his hand. He tried to remember - No, he tried to _recapture_... exactly what he did and felt to transform into the dragon. He'd almost get there, but then get excited and think about "being" the dragon, and thus lose the concentration he needed to transform.

 _"OK, Harry," he coached himself. "Settle down... breathe... slow and steady... now... ease yourself into the picture in your mind. Close your eyes, picture it... then... become... that."_ And he felt the rush of heat come over him from feet to head as he transformed. He DID it! There it was! He turned to his dressing mirror... YES! Wow, that was pretty neat. He was greenish gold, with this metallic luster. He'd made a mistake to do this sitting on his bed, though. He was big. About the size of a cow, and his bed was not constructed for that. It didn't break, but it groaned, and it was awkward getting off. He managed it, though.

 _"Now," he wondered, "dare I go out this way? I didn't get permission, but then, no one said I had to, either. Bet they'll be surprised. Ah well, like Papa says... 'better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,' and I'm not on any restriction here in the house, so..."_

Harry walked, or rather he waddled, to the closed door of his bedroom and noted that it was wide enough to let him through, but his stubby hands and claws weren't exactly designed to maneuver doorknobs. Still, he managed to unlatch the door and pull it open. He stepped out...

At the table were seated John, Oxsana, Pavel and Professor McGonagall. Papa was sitting reading the newspaper with his back to Harry, as John and Oxsana looked at him with broad smiles, and Minerva wore an expression of open-mouthed astonishiment. Papa just ducked his head, dropped his paper, and said, "He did it again, didn't he?"

John and Oxsana just nodded, still smiling, as Minerva still said nothing.

Papa turned round, looked at Harry and laughed, and said, "All right, you've settled one question for me at least. Yes, you remember how to do this and can do it in the waking world. Now, young man... I do not allow dragons in the house. Zo... let's see how much command you have as yet." Pavel rose from his seat to walk towards Harry. Harry "sat" respectfully, being careful to keep his mouth closed as he could feel some strange heat within him. He wasn't sure if he was a fire-breathing dragon, and that could be decidedly awkward in the living room.

"Harry, think of another animal... another creature you feel very confident and secure about, and see if you can transform from this into that directly. Take your time," Pavel instructed in a very encouraging tone.

Harry knew exactly what he wanted to try next. His whole life, Harry had desperately wanted a dog, and the Dursley's wouldn't even consider it. He was delighted to have met Boris and Odessa at the Chalet. They were a Ukrainian breed that looked like a very large and muscular Rottweiler with long hair. That's what he decided to focus on... so he stared at his hand. He'd read lots about dogs as he'd daydreamed for years about raising a puppy, so again he focused on relaxing into the _imago_ of a dog like Boris or Odessa. His claws then limb began to glow then blur as he started to shrink. Moments later, there he sat on the carpeted floor, a bit gangly, but definitely the black and tan canine of his memory.

"Vell done, Harry. Very vell done! And you have settled for me a question. You... are a puppy. You are about the canine equivalent of 4 months old or so. You don't have all your adult features yet, but you aren't tiny. Now, may I recommend that you go back into your room, transform to human, and get washed up? You will find nature calling with some urgency in a few moments, and we've no facilities here for puppies."

At this, Harry whipped around the way he came, trying to dash back to his room to get his clothes and blink to the bathroom. He hadn't thought of the urgency of his need until Papa mentioned it. But by golly, he could DO IT! He was SO happy! Of course, as anyone who has raised puppies knows, keeping track of four gangly legs in a quick 180 degree turn seldom turns out well on the first attempt. Sure enough, his right foreleg tripped over his left, as his hindquarters tried to run forward... resulting in a rather adorable somersault complete with sneeze upon recovery. Everyone politely refrained from audible laugh, as Harry righted himself, sneezed and shook his head with some dignity, and trotted on into his room.

Pavel, with a masterful display of self-control, simply sat back down, taking up his newpaper once again. A few seconds later, without even looking up, he quietly said, "Minerva, I blame you for that!"

"Don't you even try, Pavel Konstantyn," she said, laughing as she buttered a roll. "You soak that boy in an environment of advanced magic, let him piggyback in your mind as you do things he's never dreamed of, and then teach him focused study! And you credit ME with his acceleration? Not a chance in the world that will work, sir. I'll happily accept credit for trying to keep his bookwork up with his practical experience, but no way I'm responsible for the dragon cub that just walked out of his room. No, sir!" she shook her head with determination.

John and Oxsana wisely decided discretion to be the better part of valor, as they ignored the conversation of their elders altogether. A few minutes later, Harry walked out to join them at the table, greeting all with a cheery 'G'Morning!", along with a slight bow towards Professor McGonagall and Oxsana. It always amazed Pavel to note that children unconsciously tended to pick up habits of courtesy they saw modeled around them. Both Ron and Harry had started showing the slight bow to elders or ladies, without ever being instructed on it... simply by virtue of both John and Pavel setting the example.

As Harry seated himself, Minerva poured and passed him a steaming cup of hot chocolate and John moved the platter of pastries and rolls closer to him. Thanking them, Harry addressed Papa's newspaper as he asked, "So, Papa... What are my new rules?"

Pavel courteously put down his newspaper to attend to the conversation. "Good question, Harry. So let me turn that about. You seem to have developed a new magical skill, so... what would you guess the rules to be for this?"

"Let's see," Harry pondered, looking at the ceiling a moment to think, "One: since this can assist my survival, keep it private. Two: Don't use it in any way to increase my personal risk. Three: If I abuse this in the service of mischief, it will increase consequences. That's all I can think of, Papa."

"Well reasoned, my son. The Law requires registration of an animagus. However, that registration is generally for use identifying a particular witch or wizard in their alternate form. For example, Professor McGonagall's alternate form is a gray tabby cat with bandit mask eyes. However, you... dear boy... are NOT an animagus. You do not, and will not, have a static alternate form allowing for identification. You, like we, are a metamorphomagus. You can transform into a variety of forms. That renders the identification process moot, and... to my mind... renders registration meaningless. So, for the time being at any rate, I'd like to keep this private rather than engage the debate on registration in your case.

"So, let me just be clear. I don't want you leaving Hogwarts in an alternate form without permission. Further, if you are caught violating school rules in alternate form, there will be regrettable consequences. So, use great caution when you decide to transform. Is that clear?

"Yes, sir," Harry answered somberly, "quite clear. You want me either to have permission to transform, or be prepared to justify my use of alternate form if I decide to on my own. Is that fair?"

"That works, yes. Thank you, Harry," Pavel nodded. "Now, shall we go join the rest of the school community? Harry, feel free to share these developments with Ron and Hermione, and we'll see you here after your Quidditch practice, yes? So around tea time? Feel free to have the children join us... or not, depending on their plans."

"Righto, Papa. Sounds like a plan," Harry replied, leading the way as all exited for the Great Hall.

* * *

Pavel had invited Minerva, Severus, and Albus back after breakfast while John and Oxsana casually patrolled outside to keep an eye while students took advantage of even this blustery weather to ride, walk about, and congregate on the lawns. It was time to plan further management of artifacts and horcruxes.

"Thank you for joining me this morning. I know we're probably all looking forward to the upcoming holiday, as - I must admit - I am as well. But as we've all had time to review the notes and files from Tom Riddle's records, I wanted briefly to update all on what progress has been made, and we have yet to make. You know I'd like to dispose of Riddle's horcruxes as quickly as practical. To that end, Ivan, Oxsana and I have targeted those that seem most accessible and hope to acquire them within the next few weeks. I'd like to start with the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, which the Diary has said is still here in Hogwarts in what Riddle called the 'Room of Requirement'. Albus, do you know where this is? Ivan, Oxsana, and I have been unable to find it."

"Ha!" Dumbledore gave a barking laugh. "I'm afraid I cannot help you there, Pavel. This famous room is rumored and fabled throughout Hogwarts journals and Headmaster's Notes, but it has never been found... rather like the Chamber of Secrets."

"I see," Pavel mused. "So it is not something that responds to your authority as Headmaster?"

"Not that I've ever managed to make work, no. Have you discovered anything about it?" Albus asked.

"No, I haven't, and that's what's strange. Ivan has even tried to inquire of the stones of Hogwarts itself about such a room, and while he can tell there is information there in the sentience of the Castle, their only response is... 'Because you are a teacher here, there is nothing we can tell you.'

"Severus, would you mind inquiring of the Guardian Basilisk about this? I am certain there is order, some system, some set of rules that pertain to this Room of Requirement, and I do not want to violate them by trying to force something the wrong way. If we can solve this puzzle, I should like to acquire that horcrux first. The two others I'd like to find before the end of this year are a ring of Marvolo Gaunt and the Necklace of Salazar Slytherin. Questions, comments, concerns?" Pavel closed his presentation with his typical class or staff meeting conclusion.

"Room of Requirement?" Severus mused. "I have to wonder what that is about."

"Perhaps if Harry joins Ivan in conversation with the Castle, we can get more information. That's what I've thought to try next." Pavel said.

"I've reviewed the Riddle information," Minerva mused. "But remind me where these are located?"

Pavel responded, "The Diadem is supposed to be here in Hogwarts at this fabled Room of Requirement. The Necklace was placed in a cursed and poisoned font in the midst of an ocean shore cavern surrounded by inferi. And the Ring was hidden beneath the floor of Marvolo Gaunt's shack in a village called Little Hangleton. I should think the one at Hogwarts is easiest to retrieve, then the Ring, then the Necklace. In the interests of full disclosure, I want to discuss a matter that may raise some debate."

"What's that, Paul?" Minerva raised an eyebrow of inquiry.

"Because of the nature of the fate threads surrounding this entire matter, I consider it important that Harry take part in these retrievals." Pavel stopped speaking to let all ponder his words.

"Wait," Minerva pondered. "You can't mean you intend to drag Harry all hither-and-yon hunting all these things down, do you?"

Pavel nodded, "That's exactly what I mean, yes."

"Well, yer daft! I thought John was the reckless one. Surely you can't think it keeps Potter SAFE to be a taking him all over creation where Voldemort could catch up with him hunting these things he prizes so much?" McGonagall fumed.

"Ah, yes. Well I suspected you may feel this way," Pavel nodded. "Ivan and I had a very similar discussion. I have four principal reasons for this decision. The first is history and the past, the second is fate and the future, the third is training and his safety, and the fourth is Harry's risk-taking behaviour."

"Yer babbling, and I've no idea what you're talking aboot," Minerva huffed.

Pavel patiently explained, "History shows us that powerful warrior fathers tend to raise their scion heirs in one of three ways. Some love their sons so much they want to protect them from all harm. Therefore they leave their precious child safely at home while they go out and do battle for their desmenes, never exposing the lad to danger until they ascend the throne. Such heirs find themselves weak, unskilled as to strategy and tactics, alienated from their forces, and vulnerable to attack and defeat once the protection of their father is gone. Some other fathers take their sons to battle as soon as they can ride and wield armor, trained in martial skills alone. Such sons, upon coming into their legacy, do well on the field of battle, but often lack the diplomatic, economic, and political skills to manage the intricacies of rule, and are overthrown from within by court or aristocratic maneuvering. The most successful arrangement seems to be for an heir to be raised with excellent education, both in literature and academics, along with practical understanding of politics and the business of their fief. But at the same time, the child is not held captive in their castle, but goes afield both in the hunt - which includes significant physical danger - and in battle, when skirmish is close to home or otherwise of limited duration. Such sons show the capacity not only to keep and hold what their fathers had acquired, but often exceed their parental models and excel on their own.

"As to fate, all I can say is that Harry's life and destiny threads seem woven around these objects, and I do not believe they can be effectively eradicated without his personal involvement in their capture or their destruction. About my third reason, I don't want to seem immodest but I believe that the very safest place Harry can be in any given moment, is at my side. Our enemy is clever enough to infiltrate any protections, even Hogwarts... as demonstrated by Professor Quirrel in the first year. While I do not take many chances in general, and certainly do not incur risk without backup and preparation, when I undertake a dangerous task, I believe I can protect Harry alongside me. Even more valuable, when he takes part in that task, he learns a great deal about planning, safety, and assessing danger. Some such skills can be learned no other way than by experience. Last, I would point out that our young man seems to have an appetite for adventure that has, until recently, made him something of a 'trouble magnet'. In the past few months, together we have been able to demonstrate to him that the group of us collaborating is significantly stronger than he is working alone. That, in fact, all of us working together collaboratively are stronger than simply him and his two associates alone. I do not want to unravel any of that progress, by declaring these missions 'off limits' due to their risk, and seeing him tempted to try some half-baked scheme of his own as a result."

"You seem to have given this argument a lot of thought, Pavel," Snape spoke for the first time.

Pavel chuckled, pouring more tea from the tray before them, "John shares Minerva's view, so I've been forced to think all this through carefully and justify my position. Still, while I know all here would 'yield' that such decisions are up to me as Harry's guardian... his father... nonetheless I value your input and concerns, and it would grant me some peace of mind were you to agree that my reasoning is valid."

"Well," Snape continued, "if I am hearing you aright, it seems 'Fate' holds the controlling card here. If Harry is bound always to be opposing powerful adversaries, and if we take it that he will become a powerful wizard of considerable influence, then it seems all that you've said comes together. I have no doubt that you personally, especially in combination with John and/or with all of us, are capable of keeping Harry safer than any 'static defense', any combination of wards and protections that can be put around a location. His attitude however, his innate boldness and daring, give me some concern.

"There is no denying by any means that his deportment, his behavior and judgment, have improved tremendously since you took him on. And no," Severus smiled and shook his head, "I don't think that is simply due to your discipline of any misbehavior. Sometimes I have wondered whether you and John may be more a force to his breaking rules rather than keeping them."

Pavel met this comment with his most innocent look.

"Still, knowing the esteem in which he holds both you and John, and how hungry he has always been to prove himself and gain recognition - now that I understand and can see where that came from, being considered a 'freak' for so long in his home - I fear the possibility that he may take your encouragement of his 'adventuring' with you as some tacit approval for private heroics on his part alone, in order to impress or please you. Am I reading the boy wrongly on that?" Snape asked, in a tone of sincere inquiry.

Pavel smiled, "That's very perceptive of you, Severus. I agree. Harry is VERY vulnerable and prone to such a possibility. If anything, that's a fifth reason for my plan here. Rather a corollary to Sun Tzu, 'keep your obedient son close, your rebellious son closer'. Although, I must say, both John and I drum into him the importance of risk assessment and teamwork to avoid individual unjustifiable risk... and miraculous as it seems, we've begun to see real progress in this area. More than once now, Harry has come to us with a proposal for a plan after scrapping one where he saw the unjustifiable risk involved. Nonetheless, I agree with you that such a possibility exists and my approach could, conceivably, backfire in just that way."

Silence descended over the room for a few moments, until Albus spoke. "Pavel, I believe you are right. I, too, intended to take Harry along with me should the need arise to sally forth on short term missions, especially retrieving horcruxes. I have also sensed the... 'necessity'... in some way I cannot explain, that Harry be part of their retrieval and destruction, along with his need to see practical magic at work. I also agree that he is more likely to go off doing dangerous things, the more adults try to shelter and protect him."

"Thank you, Headmaster. Don't get me wrong. Harry is not being 'raised by committee', and I'm not seeking your congregate approval or endorsement of my plans. Should something go awry, these decisions are entirely my responsibility and you need not feel that you are to blame in any way. It's just that I've found 'mutual accountability', 'transparency', and the 'counsel of wise others' to be good general principles for avoiding unanticipated problems and... more importantly... avoiding a personal sense of arrogance or false confidence. I've spent far too long teaching the young that the day they feel above peer review, or that they must hold their plans secret from ALL others for fear of critique, is the day they become vulnerable and dangerous to those around them. There is always the possibility that any of you could raise a concern I'd not considered, and thus alter my thinking. I would be arrogant in the extreme to deny you the opportunity."

"Well, Pavel," Minerva said, pouring herself another cup of tea as well, "I can't say I've any objections you've not anticipated. I just hate to think of Harry in such danger as the places you're likely to go hunting these things. Especially the cavern you've mentioned. Inferi are nothing to play around with. Unknown curses and poisons just allow for too much unpredictability for me to be comfortable envisioning Potter there messing with them."

Pavel nodded, "Agreed, on all counts." Pavel turned, reminded of another matter, "By the way, Severus, would you consider doing me a favor?"

"Certainly, sir. What might that be?" Snape answered.

"You are aware by now, no doubt, that Harry has developed some facility with _legilimens_ , yes?" Pavel noticed Snape roll his eyes... ever so slightly. "It is still rather spontaneous at the moment, and it will take him a bit of time to get real control and boundaries around it. One of my major concerns is that he will unconsciously influence people around him. You know how that sort of 'bleed through' works in such cases?" Snape nodded. "Would you be willing to work with him a bit on his _occlumens_ skill? To build, strengthen and maintain those boundaries against intrusion by others, works both ways. To strengthen his control against intrusion, will equally strengthen his self control against leakage as well."

"I can do that," Severus replied. "Perhaps I can train both him and Draco together. Draco will need greater skill as we proceed in driving a delicate wedge between him and his father. Lucius keeps company with far too many Death Eaters at his home, for Draco to be safe randomly there at holidays and such. Speaking of which, I'm afraid I shall have to decline your kind invitation to John and Oxsana's 'Thanksgiving Feast' next week. I find I shall be otherwise engaged."

Pavel looked disappointed. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Severus. I know John, as we all, were looking forward to socializing with you. Anything you could use help with? To free you up sooner, perhaps?" Pavel looked a bit hopeful.

"No, no," Snape chuckled. "Nothing like that. Nothing is wrong, in fact. It's just that Lucius and Narcissa must be away travelling week after next, so that Draco will have only a couple days with them for the holiday. After that, Lucius has asked if Draco could spend the week with me. That is perfect from my point of view, but will put Draco with me right across the time I'd otherwise have been at your Chalet. I'm sure that the prospect of your Gryffindor Gaggle - between the Weasley Clan, Hermione and her parents, Professor McGonagall and Headmaster - would find our Slytherin selves a bit of a wet blanket. We shall find amusements from Spinner's End, no fear."

Pavel paused, thinking, with an odd look on his face for a moment or two, then asked, "Severus? Is Draco well bred and well trained enough to endure such a 'country holiday' without precipitating a social disaster? I mean, even if he didn't LIKE the others, is he politically savvy enough not to spark a scene?"

Snape's head tilted a bit with an upturned brow, as he tried to see where the Professor's calculations were going, as he was clearly scheming something. "I should think so, yes. I KNOW if his father were there, and these were dangerous political associates, Draco wouldn't step a toe out of line. Lucius' training and consequences are swift and unequivocal. With me as his accompanying guardian, I'm not entirely sure. Fear wouldn't be so much the motivator, as his desire to please... or not displease... me."

"Do you imagine you could persuade him that this trip could be a political advantage to you, and that it would be well to get along with Harry and the others on your behalf?" Pavel smiled.

"I suspect I could, yes." Snape smiled in return.

"Well then, I think that's a perfectly marvelous solution! The Chalet is surrounded by 6 bungalows, 'Gasthausen', cabins meant for couples or families as our guests at the Chalet. The Weasleys and the Grangers will each have one for the week of their stay, while I had thought another would be available for the three of you, unless you preferred to stay in the Chalet, or have your own individually. I'm sure John and Oxsana will be thrilled to have Draco join us. I shall have a little 'preparatory chat' with our children and the Twins. I'm sure Percy will behave well on his own. Can Draco behave respectfully to 'blood traitors' like Molly and Arthur Weasley, Severus?" Pavel chuckled.

"He will if he knows what's good for him..." Snape replied, in warning tones.

"Well, let us see if we can keep the activity level up to a point where they have too much fun together to engage in hostility. There will be outdoor and indoor activities available - I'm having a spare Gasthaus prepared as recreational, with sports and game equipment - and there will be skiing, horses, a horse-drawn sleigh available to take guests to the nearby village with its shops and Pub. I'm sure there will be more than sufficient diversion available to avoid conflict. Shall we plan on that then?"

"Yes, indeed. I think that will work just fine. I need to do a bit of reading and writing during the holiday... I'm working on an article for publication in the _Journal of Modern Alchemy_ , a major potions journal. It's almost finished, and I planned to prepare it for submission during this holiday," Snape commented.

"Your house will have a study available, along with plenty of room for you to study undisturbed. Just let us know when you'd like privacy, and one of us can keep an eye on Draco so that you can focus. I think this should be a very productive time for you, sir," Pavel smiled. "So, are we all comfortable with our plans for the moment? I shall see if John, perhaps with Harry's help, can get more information on this Room of Requirement, and we'll see how to proceed from there."

"That will be fine, Paul," Minerva smiled. "I must say, I am looking forward to this holiday. It's been a very long time since I've seen the Chalet, and I recall it to be spectacular in its scenery."

"Thank you, all. I look forward to our time together very much."

So saying, they all settled back to enjoy their tea, biscuits, and the warm crackle of the fire, until the Konstantyn boys came in dripping and sniffling from their exertions outside. The two of them tramped in laughing and jostling one another, arguing about some or another maneuver Harry had used in practice that John felt was too rough for scholastic play. The peace and quiet of the library-like atmosphere of the apartment was burst asunder as though the entire Quidditch team were stampeding into their Common Room.

"BOYS!" Pavel roared in his parade ground voice, laughing as he rose to face his sons...

The two of them froze in mid-step, as they looked up at him in alarm, for the first time noticing Severus, Minerva, and the Headmaster sitting there. Oxsana came walking in behind them, much more quietly as she enjoyed their discomfiture.

"I TOLD you that you were making too much noise when we came in!" she jibed, in her favorite I-told-you-so tone.

"Oh, no, little girl! Don't think for a moment that I consider YOU little miss innocent, set upon by these two ruffians! I know you all far too well. Now, boys, that we've restored a bit of decorum... welcome home! How was practice?"

Now, much subdued, Harry and John both gave slight bows as they greeted their guests politely and reported that practice had gone very well. So saying, they excused themselves to go shower and change, saying they would return very soon as they disappeared to their respective bedrooms. Oxsana also excused herself for a few minutes as she went to her apartment to change clothes and freshen up.

When she returned, she gratefully poured a cup of the ever hot tea and took a small saucer of some biscuits. "You know, Papa Pavel..." she began, "Harry really IS quite something on a broom. Some of his maneuvers amaze me."

"I know," Pavel chuckled. "That was our first introduction here at Hogwarts, really. When we did some 'speed riding' on our brooms together."

"Pfft!" snorted Minerva. "Speed-riding my Aunt Matilda! You and Hooch RACED with that boy, around these grounds like a trio of hooligans! You all should have served detention for it!"

Pavel laughed to recall, "I believe we did, come to think of it, madame."

"Well... still..." she sniffed, hardly mollified.

Albus and Severus rose, thanking Pavel for his hospitality and taking their leave, saying they'd be glad to take up his invitation to supper there at the apartment the next evening. Pavel enjoyed Sunday supper with extended family, and thought it would give them a good opportunity to go over their plans with everyone at once after dinner.

"Glad you could be here, enjoy the rest of your day. See you later," Pavel and Oxsana offered as they made their way out the door. Minerva continued sitting on the couch, now quietly enjoying the novel she'd pulled from her robes, relaxed with friends before their fire.

Pavel smiled contentedly as he waited for the boys to return, anticipating a game of chess, Cluedo, Monopoly, or other. Life... was good.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! I appreciate the encouragement of the reviews, and the wonderful PM's you send from time to time! I'm so glad you like spending time with Pavel and family! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	14. Elementary, My Dear Potter

**Elementary, My Dear Potter**

Pavel reviewed their current circumstances with John, Oxsana and Harry when they returned.

"So, I guess our next task should be for Harry and me to inquire of Hogwarts together, eh?" John concluded, as he digested all the reported discussion.

"I think so. Harry, do you mind 'riding along with' Ivan as he confers with the sentience of the Castle? I'm not really sure how to explain the process. From our, human, side... it's like conversation. But the Castle's response is more 'intuition'. You'll just 'understand the right thing to do', rather than 'hear concrete instructions'. Does that make sense?" Pavel asked.

"I think so," Harry answered. Sometimes, that sort of thing happens to me unexpectedly. I usually think it's you or John telling me what to do, but it won't be in words. It's just an 'impulse' like. Or like I 'feel' the right thing to do. Like when I ride a broom, sometimes."

"Yes, that's right. That's how it is when Magic 'advises' you. It will feel more like an 'urging' than words of direction. I'm glad you've had that experience. That's what I'm hoping will occur if Ivan can connect you with the sentience of the Castle. Where do you want to try, Ivan?" Pavel asked. "Shouldn't make much difference."

"Well, best we not be observed. Since we're hoping to connect the Castle with Harry, why don't we try from his room first? The Castle knows and helped with creating the room, so it should be very aware that it is 'his' space," John suggested.

"Very well. Minerva?" Pavel turned to Professor McGonagall who was watching the conversation with interest, "Would you do me the honor of taking a walk with me? If the Castle is going to disclose information forbidden to faculty, I want to minimize any hesitation it may have." So saying, Pavel shape-shifted to the form of a slate-gray tom cat, who rubbed his back up against the hem of Professor McGonagall's robes.

"Here noo! Don't you go a shedding on me... Give me a moment!" as she, too, transformed into her gray tabby form. Together, they glided out the door to pad silently down the hallway towards the public areas of the school.

John laughed, shaking his head. "Papa can shift so smoothly from one form to another..." he sighed. "I'm not nearly so smooth and effortless. That takes tremendous practice. You've got a good start on that, Little Brother. Anyway, let's give this a go, shall we?"

Harry led the way into his bedroom, neatly picked up and squared away. John asked Harry to place his hands on a bare section of the wall, as John placed one hand atop Harry's and his other on the wall as well. John opened mind-speak to Harry, as he mentally addressed the wall and both of their hands began to glow.

 _"Noble Castle of Hogwarts," John addressed the stones with clear thought, "we have need to find the Room of Requirement wherein is hidden a cursed object of great power. We seek to destroy this object for the protection of the school and her students. I understand that you cannot disclose such information to me, since I am a teacher here. But Harry, who is with me now, is a student. Can you help Harry find the Room of Requirement?"_

 _"YES!" was an impression clearly discerned by the two of them._

 _"Over to you, now, Harry," John said, backing as far away from the conversation as he could, while still maintaining the mental link between the boy and the spirit of the stones._

 _"Um... hello? Hogwarts?" Harry uttered, tentatively._

In response, he felt a warm gush of welcome, rather like the effusive wave of maternalism that washed over him when Molly Weasley greeted him with a hug. It was a bit strange and very odd, but not at all unpleasant. He'd never imagined being 'loved' by a building before, but clearly Hogwarts felt very protective of her students and personnel.

 _"Can you guide me to the Room of Requirement? I really need to find this object. I need your help urgently." Harry knew enough about imago and the impulsion of magic through passion to let his feelings impel his question._

 _In his mind's eye, he could 'see' the diadem. It rested atop a number of objects in a huge chamber just chock a block with antiques, artifacts, lost books, furniture, paintings, old chalkboards, signs, mirrors, balls... just what seemed an endless collection of junk accumulated over the 1000 year history of the school. He became aware that he was seeing the "Room of the Lost and Hidden"._

 _"Is this the Room of Requirement? Is the Room of the Lost and Hidden, the Room of Requirement?"_

 _He came to understand that it was not THE Room of Requirement, but it was A Room of Requirement. That it was, in fact, the Room of Requirement that he required. For some reason, the Castle felt it important that he understand the distinction, and the conversation would not move forward until he clearly acknowledged that fact._

 _Once he did, he asked, "How do I get there? How do I reach the Room of the Lost and Hidden? Where is the entrance?"_

 _He was met only with peace and silence. Nothing happened. Hogwarts wouldn't answer. He waited... Still no answer._

 _"Please... it's really very important," and Harry managed to put a bit of whine into his mental tone._

 _At this, there was a clear sense of "No!" that came, and Harry realized it was because he was still linked with John and John was faculty. Instead, in Harry's mind's eye he could see his own bedroom closet... the right hand wall... the 10th course of stones up from the floor... the 4th stone back from the door... to press that stone. The stone seemed to glow a bit green in his imagination, and as he thought to release his hands from the wall to go try it, the Castle clearly commanded that he "Wait!"._

 _The Castle drew John back to the forefront of the interaction, and made clear that this encounter was concluded. It seems strange to say that the "Castle went back to sleeping stones", but that's what it felt like, as John took the hint, and their hands dimmed back to normal flesh._

John knew that he was dismissed, and that Harry somehow knew the right thing to do, so he tousled his little brother's unkempt locks, and walked out the bedroom door, closing it behind him.

Harry took a moment to catch his breath and recall the exact stone he's to press, for whatever reason. Seeing it clearly in his mind, he opened his closet door, located the stone, and fiddled with it. He tried removing it, wiggling it, pressing it... nothing happened. Then, he remembered how the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron made its gateway into Diagon Alley. _Harry flicked his wrist, drawing his wand, and thought quietly a moment, wondering how many taps. "Three" came to his mind, and so he did... Gently he tapped the stone three times with his wand, identifying himself as Harry Potter, student at Hogwarts, and the stone recessed into the wall, revealing a small alcove or niche in the rock wall._ The hole was large enough to place his hand and arm into, but he could see nothing within. As he reached towards the cavity, he felt suddenly fearful to shove his hand... then wrist and arm... into the inky stone blackness. What if it were a trap, or poisoned, or something closed down and crushed his hand? He could think of all sorts of "bad endings" to this adventure.

Harry decided this was a test of trust between him and Hogwarts. He was simply going to believe, by faith, that Hogwarts meant him no harm. He would reach in however far he needed to, to find what the Castle had here for him.

He reached... and his arm went in nearly up to his elbow before his fingers curled around a scrolled parchment sealed with a scarlet ribbon and wax bearing the Hogwarts crest. As he withdrew his hand, with the scroll, the stones returned to their accustomed place. Harry sat at his desk, opened the scroll, and puzzled over its contents...

 **It read:**

"Great magical help will be given at Hogwarts  
To those who but ask for the aid of the school.  
'Ere they be faculty bolstering bulwarks,  
Or scholar's endeavor at breaking a rule.  
If students need something this Castle can give them  
The Room of Requirement should hasten to mind.  
Just ask for what's needed, petition intensely,  
Then pace halls with diligence seeking to find."

The words meant nothing to Harry. He sat pondering them for 10 or 15 minutes, and got nowhere. He put the scroll in his pocket and went out seeking John and Oxsana, or Papa and Professor McGonagall. He found them, but before he could speak, Papa raised a finger for silence before giving instruction...

"Harry? I don't want to risk violating our covenant with Hogwarts. Therefore, please say nothing to me while you work this out. I'd like you to go find Ron and Hermione now, and solve this on your own. Ivan has told me he is assured that the Castle has given you the information you need to find the Room. What's more, apparently, we... faculty adults... are barred from entering there. So... this is a mission for you three alone. When you locate the Room, seek and find the Diadem. But DO NOT TOUCH IT. Come back to here and get the Stasis Box we used to contain the Diary. Then return and retrieve the Diadem, using your wands to levitate it into the Box without touching it. Is all that clear?"

"Yes, sir. I understand. This may take a while." Harry answered.

"Well, do what you can, and then return at Teatime if you like, and plan to eat with all of us in the Great Hall for supper. If it is not found by then, you can either get back to the hunt or pick it up again tomorrow, whichever you prefer. It seems we simply cannot help you with this, without offending the school."

"We can do this, Papa!" Harry said with authority. "You can trust us with this."

"I know we can, son. But Harry?" he said in his 'teacher's voice', be sure you go one step at a time, measure and contain your risks. The three of you are accountable to keep one another safe. You don't want to see your friends hurt, any more than we do... so be cautious as you conduct this mission, eh?"

"Yessir," Harry replied. He hadn't thought of it that way, and found it was both thrilling and terrifying to think of "leading a raid" in this way. Still, they'd be careful. They could do this! Quietly, but with great determination, Harry marched out, parchment in hand, using mind-speak to ask Ron and Hermione to join him in the school Library. They heard him, saying they'd be right there.

* * *

Once Hermione joined them in a Library carrel, she cast a silencing spell to maintain their privacy while Harry caught them up on all the news. Briefly, he reviewed his adventures the prior evening in Lockhart's dreams, along with his new ability to transform into animals. But he rather rushed past all that, to explain their current "mission". They were all struck with the combination of excitement and mild trepidation to find they were assigned a "mission" that the adult members of their conspiracy were not allowed to assist with. Harry was very careful to be clear about his only restriction here, that when they locate the Diadem, they not touch it, but rather go get the Stasis Box and levitate it inside without any direct contact.

Both Ron and Hermione clearly understood the important magical reasons for this condition, so Harry knew there would be no conflict over this. He presented the scroll for their examination, and sat back to give them time to think.

They read it over, then sat a moment or two pondering. Harry wondered how he could help. He knew the Castle wanted them to find the Room. He knew there were major clues in the poem. But it would have been so much easier if the Castle had just given him clear instructions. He wondered if, now that John was not networked with them, he could have direct communication with the Castle? Like, could he speak directly to the Castle, and have it draw them a map or something, and put it in that cubbyhole where it gave him the poem? Or... perhaps... the Castle could make a cubbyhole like that anywhere it wanted?

Hermione said, "It seems like the first half of the rhyme just makes the offer of help, and then the second half gives the actual clues. I see three clues, or instructions here. What do you think?" She turned to Ron.

"Yeah, actually just the last two lines. If this were a game, and those the clues... we have to "ask for what's needed", so I guess we need to be specific. Then it says "petition intensely". I don't know what it means by that. Then "pace halls with diligence", so I guess we need to be walking about.

Harry contributed, "I might know what it means by 'petition intensely'. When John and I were 'talking' with the Castle, it didn't say 'words', but it 'nudged'. It used 'intuition' to communicate back, at least to me. I think it's talking about that 'magic passion' thing we need to use when we cast spells. We have to deeply want to find this room, to realize we REALLY NEED it... for the Castle to make it, or open it to us. It's not just 'saying magic words' as we walk by the right place... wherever that is. It's like a 'faith' thing... knowing it's available, knowing the Castle wants to provide it, and waiting expectantly for it to open up. But where do we start?"

"Thinking about that," Hermione answered, "surely, if this is a student secret thing, it won't be where there are classrooms, offices, or a lot of traffic. It's got to be someplace out of the way, some unused corridor or other."

"Yes," Ron agreed. "But it won't be so out of the way that it would set off an alarm on a ward, or get us in trouble in some out-of-bounds place. In fact, it would have to be someplace students wouldn't be questioned. So, not the dungeons, or anywhere outside. That lets out the Owlery Tower, the Astronomy Tower, and all the grounds. If it's for all students, it won't be in any of the House Towers. When we eliminate the floors with classrooms or offices... that only leaves the upper floors of the main castle. There are classes, laboratories, and offices all the way to the fourth floor. So... I suggest we focus from the fifth floor up in the main building."

"That's really good, Ron!" Hermione said, excitedly. "And I've had a weird thought. I wonder if, since faculty are specifically excluded from knowing about the Room, maybe others here aren't. Like, maybe the ghosts might know something... or the House Elves? What about Dobby? You could ask him if he knows anything. At least where we should start looking."

"Those are great ideas. Let's go ask him now. And then maybe you can talk to Myrtle? She gets along better with you, Hermione, than either of us. Wait, this is Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, right? Isn't the Gray Lady..."

Hermione interrupted him, "Of course! That's brilliant, Harry! The Gray Lady is Rowena's daughter, Helena. Professor Binns discussed her story as part of the history of the Founders in First Year History of Magic, though I daresay most students slept through the lecture. She may know something about how to find it. I've been continuing research on the memories of ghosts that I started at the beginning of the term. I've spoken to Lady Helena a bit. Let me see what information she can share. What else do we want to do?"

"Tell you what, Hermione, go speak with the ghosts while Ron and I go talk to Dobby. Then I want to ask Papa something, and we'll start looking. If we don't find it before supper, we'll try again after. It shouldn't be too far away or that hard to get to, not considering that the Castle wants students to be able to use it. Ron, let's go to our Dorm Room. No one should be there right now, and we can talk to Dobby without being overheard by family. Let me test something out a moment...

 _"Can you both hear me clearly?" Harry mind-spoke to both Ron and Hermione, as they jumped a bit, startled to hear Harry's voice in their heads when they knew the Professor wasn't with them or networking them. They nodded with a look of surprise. "Try answering me the same way..." And he found he could hear them clearly speaking in his head, just as when Papa was 'running the network' so to speak. "OK," he continued the same way, "now see if you can speak with each other this way, and grant permission for me to overhear..." And it worked! He realized he was really focused making it happen. He tried making it more a "background" or "afterthought" and addressing them "casually" and it didn't work._ Aloud he said, "Try speaking to one another and me again now, while I don't focus on that so intently." Again, it didn't work. He thought about this for a moment, then said, "Try mentally 'yelling' something at me. Try to speak into me, as if I weren't paying any attention." That worked. He could hear them.

"All right then. I can't do this like Papa does. I can't just 'hold a network open' while I'm not concentrating on that alone. But, I certainly heard you when you called me. So, I think we can use this, sort of... especially when we're separated. You can call to me, and as long as I can concentrate on our communicating, we can all chat together. But once I'm thinking of something else, we may lose it. Of course, you guys may be able to focus between yourselves and me, and do this same stuff. I don't know much about it yet. For now, I'm thinking, we'll go talk to Dobby and then Hermione, when you finish with the ghosts 'call us' with mind-speak, and we can all meet at the Fourth Floor Up Staircase and get started. Right?"

Everyone agreed, and they headed off to interrogate or interview their potential informants.

* * *

Ron and Harry got to their Dorm Room to find, as they expected, that Neville and Seamus were off somewhere doing something else. The boys sat cross-legged on Harry's bed and Harry called for Dobby. The little elf poofed instantly to their bedside, wearing five neckties, a cut down shirt rather like a dickie around his neck for a proper collar, and a cone shaped wizard student's hat on his head. Harry had to wonder how he ever managed to handle or prepare food in such a wardrobe, but knew better than to ask.

"Yes, young masters. How can Dobby be of help for you's today?" he said, bowing deeply as he arrived.

"Dobby, what can you tell us about the Room of Requirement here at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Ah, does Master Harry need something from Dobby? Do you require anything that I can provide?" Dobby looked a bit concerned, as though he had somehow failed in his service.

"No, it's not that, little friend. We need to find something that is hidden in the Room of Requirement, but we don't know how to go there. You always take wonderful care of me," Harry smiled reassuringly.

"Oh, all right then. Well, Dobby has not been there himself, but I overheard some conversations where I used to serve. I heard that the entrance is on the 7th Floor of the Castle, and that one must walk to and fro along the wall that holds the entrance three times thinking very clearly about what one requires."

"Thank you, Dobby. That helps a lot. Do you know anything that can help us find the correct wall?" Harry probed.

"No, Master Harry. Except that the Room can do many different things, and be different sizes. So I would think the entrance must be along a wall big enough for a good sized room behind it. But with magic, it's hard to tell. Space works differently here."

"That's very true, Dobby. Thank you so much for your help. Anything you can think to ask, Ron?"

"No, just that that's a great help, Dobby. You saved us a lot of searching. Thank you." Ron smiled.

"It's my pleasure to serve, young masters. Call if Dobby can do anything more," and he bowed just before disappearing with a finger snap in a puff of smoke.

"Well," Ron nodded, "that narrows things down quite a bit."

"It does indeed. All right, I need to talk to Papa about something. You want to come home with me, or just meet on the 7th floor when I'm finished? I can mind-speak to you when I'm done. Maybe you'd rather find Hermione than just hang about?"

"No, mate," Ron chuckled, "I'll come home with you and wait til you're done. Girl ghosts give me the creeps. Myrtle's too strange, and the Gray Lady always makes me think she's going to burst into tears any minute. Better Hermione than me. I'll see if John's around for a game of chess if you take that long."

"That's fine," Harry laughed, thinking of past encounters between Ron and Myrtle. "I don't expect to be long, but I need some advice, so I can't tell for sure. Let's go then."

So saying the two of them bounded down their spiral staircase, out through the Common Room and Fat Lady's portrait, and just the few meters down to Harry's portal to the Konstantyn's. He and Ron walked into the living room to see Pavel and John engrossed in a chess game, as Oxsana sat comfortably reading on the couch, her feet curled up beneath her, as she snuggled under a brightly patterned afghan before the fire.

"Well, you've not been away too long! Nice to see you, Ron. How go the deliberations... no details, of course," Pavel greeted cheerily, giving a short wave as Ron came over to observe the match.

"Afternoon, sir," Ron answered. "Who's winning? No... wait... I can see for myself," Ron smiled, noting a significantly larger number of John's casualties lined up alongside the board, than Pavel's.

"Ah, but don't be misled by appearances, young sir," Pavel grinned. The only piece that counts is the King, and Ivan could pull this out with but his King and one pawn, should he prevail."

This drew nothing but a snort of derision from John, as both he and Ron just rolled their eyes at one another, with the unspoken unison understanding of... _"As if THAT's likely to happen..."_

"I wonder if I could interrupt you for a few minutes, sir. Could we speak in your Study?" Harry asked Pavel.

"Certainly," Pavel looked over to John, "would you excuse me for the moment?" John nodded his ready assent as Pavel rose and led the way to the Study. "Is something wrong, Harry?" he asked, as he closed the door and took a seat over by the fire, beckoning Harry to join him.

"No, sir. Not at all. Of course, as much as I'd _like_ to fill you in on our progress..."

Pavel interrupted with a raised palm and a gentle shake of the head, "No, Harry. You are entrusted with this. I do not wish to offend the Castle, who has made it quite clear that we are not to be involved. So, I need no details. How may I help otherwise?"

"Well, it's not giving away any secret you don't already know to say we are going to be searching parts of the Castle," Harry began, as Pavel nodded. "well, Hermione's off doing some research best done by herself, and Ron and I just finished some tasks of our own, and I was thinking that communication - like the mind speaking we do - is always such a big help. So as we sat, I tried to see if I could hold us together to do that, and I could. We were able to talk to one another effectively. But, I had to 'hold focus' to keep it reliable... like when we're steadying a scene through your Staff for a Diorama. If I relaxed my concentration, we couldn't just talk. BUT, even if I was relaxed, if they mentally 'shout' at me, so to speak, I could hear what they said.

"So, I thought it might be useful if for some reason they want silent communication, they can 'shout' at me and I can focus on that. But one reason I thought of trying this was that..." Harry paused, trying to figure out how to express his need for advice without disclosing too much of their content on this mission. "Ugh, this is frustrating. I can't explain why I want to do what I want to do. But here, I can put this another way... You know how there's a 'feel' to different kinds of magic? Like, it may be a tingle, or a buzz, or a hum, or a tightening in the gut? You know what I mean, though I know that's not making sense..."

Pavel smiled, "Yes, Harry. I know exactly what you mean. All magical people share the frustration of trying to describe sensations in words. That's why, so often, the word 'intuition' is not fuzzy and nebulous, but precisely accurate."

"Yes! That's JUST what I mean. Well, I need... or at least I WANT... to communicate some 'magic feel' to Ron and Hermione, for purposes of what we're doing. And I had thought I'd use this link, this networking of mind, to see if we could all share the experience simultaneously. I can band us together for silent communication. I thought I'd try banding us together for some of the intuitive sharing, the sensation of communication, I felt when connected with the Castle. I thought it would help us search for the entrance, if I weren't the only one that could 'feel' the Castle's resonance. I'm convinced the Castle wants to help, and will guide us as best it can, but I don't need to be the only one that can sense the help. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Harry, very much so. So, your question is?"

"Well, at first, I was just going to try it. I was going to network us, link us together, and then open the experiences I had resonating with the Castle. But... well... I'm not sure how to say this, but... It certainly seems safe enough, and I've experimented with the silent speaking so I know that does no harm, but I got concerned about taking this further step. I mean, it's one thing to 'speak' simple words into a friend's mental hearing. We hear interior voices all the time, memory, imagination, whatnot. But this is something different, something far more visceral and nebulous," Harry smiled as Pavel raised an eyebrow at the vocabulary. "Don't make fun, I've been reading a lot lately." Pavel shook his head in sincere denial that he'd make fun of such a thing.

"Anyway, I wanted to ask you if it would be safe to try what I'm thinking. Not safe for me... I know I'd be all right. But I'd be messing with my friends' minds in a new way, and I don't know if there could be risks there I don't know about. Let me be clear. You know how you 'open memories' or scenes to us sometimes, and we view them through you by either 'leaning in' to your mind, or entering some space between us where you project, you send, the memory or information?"

"Yes. That's a good description of the process, by the way," Pavel answered.

"OK, now, you know how sometimes you 'push' information into the mind of another? Like when you or Oxsana have transferred those large data sets to the rest of us?"

"Yes..."

"Well, there's a big difference between those two processes. The first is almost 'passive'. It's more like 'leaning in towards' the mind of the other, where the data push is far more active. What I want to try is this passive form, just to... like... lay out the experiences in my own mind, with something like an 'invitation' or 'slight vacuum' so that Ron and Hermione can come into the experiences and share them with me. They would come into MY boundaries, and interact however much or little they can or want to, but I would stay out of THEIR minds, their boundaries. Ugh! I'm sorry, my words are so clumsy."

"No, Harry, you're explaining very well. These are difficult concepts to describe, and I'm understanding you perfectly. So, tell me again why you did not try this when you thought of it?"

"I almost did, but then I thought... You guys do this stuff all the time. But you can maintain a mind link network and do a hundred other things at the same moment. I can't. I'm still so new at this, I feel like Neville on a broom. I wasn't going to take the chance of hurting Ron and Hermione. It's like you guys are surgeons, and I've just learned First Aid. It's really exciting and I can't wait to get better and know more. But I didn't want to risk making a mistake in or with their minds, by trying something way over my head, just because I didn't ask you about potential danger. So I decided to talk to you, instead."

"Thank you, Harry. Thank you for trusting to talk to me about this, rather than assume you could do this safely. Ordinarily, I would not want you to attempt this. However, in that you can discern the difference between what you've called the 'passive' and 'active' form of sharing information or experience... and because you are already so deeply bonded with Ron and Hermione, I'm going to encourage you to go ahead with your experiment. I can't say whether it will work or not. That will depend on both your skill and talent, as well as on theirs.

"BUT, I can give you a major guideline for avoiding anyone coming to harm. It's simple. Don't force anything. Don't 'push' past any 'resistance'. The healthy human mind, such as the three of yours, is resilient and will protect itself from any harmful intrusion or extrusion. There would first be a sense of 'pressure', of 'push'. Then there would be distinct tightness and discomfort. Then actual pain, like a headache or dizziness... like the pain you used to experience around your scar. Here is the 'rule', the 'condition' I would put to your attempting this sharing, or any networked sharing you ever do, ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"No 'push', no 'pressure', no 'force', no 'pain'. Simple. If any of those elements enter into the exercise, then you terminate the exercise. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now... I really liked your phrasing of 'leaning into'. That is a WONDERFUL way to express your function as 'sender'. You are not simply 'neutral', depending on the legilimens ability of the person you are sharing with. You can, indeed, give your contribution - whether that's experience, sensation, or data - a bit of a 'nudge' in their direction. But you stop at their boundary. You do not push it on in to them or their minds. You are right. That task requires skills, feedback primarily, and the ability to pace the transfer that you do not yet have command over. You may not yet 'push' because you don't yet know your own strength, and you could cause hurt. So don't do that. But 'lean' or 'nudge', that's all right. Just no consistent outward pressure. Now... are MY words making sense?" Pavel laughed at the same verbal limitations that frustrated his son moments before.

"Actually, yes, Papa. That all makes perfect sense. So it's ok to try and see if I can share these 'intuitions' or this sensation of 'resonance' with them, as long as I don't force it or apply pressure, right?"

Pavel nodded, "Exactly right. In fact, I'll be quite interested to see how this all works out. I only wish I could monitor and help, but because of the content I am barred."

"I know. Well, we'll let you know. Just wish me luck, and I think we're good to go then. If things work out the way I hope, we should have it before bedtime. Maybe sooner."

"Don't forget, son..."

"I know, Papa. We won't touch it. Just come back and get the Box, then bring it home."

"Thank you," Pavel smiled as he'd risen to open the door for Harry.

Harry gave him a quick hug around the waist, as they headed to the door. "Thanks, Papa. For trusting me."

Pausing a moment with his hand on the knob of the closed door, Pavel laughed and said, "Harry, the next time you earn a paddling, remind me of this conversation, please. Your planning and judgment have been everything I could want, and you've made me very proud. Oh, and by the way, as to your 'communication focus', you are reacting like a good Team Leader, so I expect that your mind will always be partially on Ron and Hermione until you are safely home. I say that because you need not worry about whether you will hear them if they mentally call to you. You will. Their call will cut through almost anything else you could be doing. That's just how this works," and he opened the door.

"Thanks, Papa. That makes me feel better," Harry nodded.

"Are we all set?" Ron asked, tipping his King over to resign his hopeless game with John.

"Yes, we are. And I think I just earned a 'Get out of a paddling Free' Card from Papa to boot! Like a Rain Check or a Detention Pass!" Harry ducked away from Pavel, to avoid a playful cuff.

"I don't recall saying any such thing, you cheeky scamp! We shall see what you have to report by suppertime. I take it you're willing to miss Tea in light of your adventures?"

"Yes, especially if we meet with early success. We'll see," Harry answered, ignoring the slightly crestfallen look on Ron's face at the prospect of missing one of Wilfried's excellent Teas. "I'll make it up to you, mate. I think this is going to be fun. And for once... we WON'T get in trouble for it! Come on!"

"Cheerio," Ron waved as he followed Harry out their door.

* * *

Hermione, in the meantime, had gone to the second floor girl's lavatory looking for Myrtle and, after a few minutes of loitering and calling her name, Myrtle appeared.

"Oh, hello, Hermione. I don't see you so much anymore, now that you're not cooking that smelly potion in here," Myrtle whined.

"Oh, yes. Sorry about that. Professor Snape made us move it into the Potions Laboratory to finish. It turned out all right though, in case you were wondering," Hermione ended, a bit lamely.

"That's good. Now, where's that good looking new boy you used to bring with you? He can turn into a ghost, did you know that? Is that a new skill they're teaching here at Hogwarts? Is that something Professor Binns is now training you on? Or has Professor Flitwick worked out a new charm or hex?"

"No, Myrtle. Neither. Master Constantine is just a very talented mage with strong skills in Death magic. He is doing fine, thank you. Now, if you have a moment, I could use your help for just a few minutes on something important. Would that be all right?"

"I suppose so. It's not like I get a lot of visitors here, Hermione. In fact, you are like the only one. I get so lonely."

"I'm sorry, Myrtle. I'll try to stop by more often if you like. But for right now, do you know anything about the Room of Requirement?"

"Ooooo, are you going to do something bad?" Myrtle cooed. "I heard rumors about it sometimes, but I don't know if they were true or not. Some students said they knew a place they could go and drink firewhiskey and hide contraband, but I never saw it. None of the friends I knew and could believe for sure had ever been there. But beyond that, I don't know," she shook her pigtailed head.

"Well, thank you for telling me what you'd heard. Now, do you know where the Gray Lady is? Where Helena Ravenclaw is right now?"

"Not for sure, but she's probably haunting near the Ravenclaw Common Room, or one of her portraits, trying to avoid the Bloody Baron."

"Myrtle, I'd really like to speak with her about something very important. Do you suppose you could find her and ask if she will meet with me for just a few minutes? Would you be kind enough to do me that favor? I would REALLY appreciate it. I'm sure Master Constantine would appreciate it, too," and Hermione felt almost guilty for what she was afraid she might have to do.

"Oh, would he? That would be marvelous! I mean, it's not like I know for SURE where she is. It COULD take me all night to find her! But... well... if Master Constantine needs her found, well... I'm sure I could find her if it would please HIM. Do you suppose you could have him stop by later to thank me, if I found her for you?"

Hermione sighed, knowing John wouldn't let her forget this soon, "Yes, Myrtle, I'm fairly sure if you can get Madame Ravenclaw to meet with me right away, Master Constantine could come by this week sometime to thank you."

"All right then, why don't you wait on that bench outside in the grand corridor near the front doors, and I'll see if she can join you there to talk."

"Thank you, Myrtle. I appreciate this very much."

"Oh, you're welcome, Hermione. But it's Master Constantine's appreciation I more look forward to," and Myrtle disappeared, zipping into the central wall.

"Indeed," Hermione said to herself, as she headed towards the aforementioned stone bench.

Before long, the diaphanous beauty of the Gray Lady drifted along the corridor to join Hermione on her solitary bench. Being late on this cold Saturday afternoon, most students were comfortably settled somewhere warm now snuggling a cup of hot cocoa or tea. Little traffic disturbed the quiet chat between mortal and founder's offspring as Hermione respectfully interviewed her.

"I don't mean to pry, or cause unnecessary grief, my lady. You are, or were, Helena Ravenclaw, no?"

"Yes, so I was. Now, most label me correctly, simply the Gray Lady."

"Your sorrows are heavy, that is plain to see. I seek an artifact that has been made into a most dangerous item of dark magic. I want to protect Hogwarts and those who dwell here. Can you help me with that, even though it may spark painful memories?"

"I will help if I can," the ghost replied.

"The artifact I seek is the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. It was placed in the Room of Requirement by a dark wizard named Tom Riddle. Is there anything you can tell me that would help get to the tiara?"

"Unfortunately, Miss..."

"I'm sorry. I'm 'Granger', Hermione Granger..."

"Unfortunately, Miss Granger, I can tell you what I'm sure you already know of the history of the Diadem. I was jealous of my mother's intellect and thought stealing the Diadem, wearing it, would make me smarter than she. 'Twas not so, and in my shame I fled Hogwarts to Albania. There I hid the Diadem, but was hunted down by my mother's emissary as she wanted us reconciled. He loved me, but when I refused to return he stabbed me in his rage. I died, whereupon in his own remorse and despair he turned his blade upon himself committing suicide. The two of us have returned here to care for Hogwarts, for he is the Bloody Baron.

"The only other student with whom I ever spoke and poured out my heart, was this Tom Riddle of whom you speak. He seemed so understanding, so sympathetic. He wanted to know what had happened to the diadem, and I told him where it was hidden. Beyond that I know nothing of its location or how to reach it now in this Room you speak of. I've heard it rumored here at Hogwarts, but I've not been in it nor do I know the means by which to access it."

"Thank you, Lady Ravenclaw. I appreciate your time and your help. We also appreciate your service, as all the ghosts. We know you help keep Hogwarts safe, and if I may ever be a friend to you, please let me do so."

"That's very kind, Miss Granger. Few students ever offer their friendship. I may spend more time with you as the years go by. We shall see. Fare well, and good fortune on your quest," as she drifted away bestowing her blessing with her leave.

"Thank you, milady," and Hermione rose as she left, in courtesy.

She'd finished at just about the same time as Ron and Harry were leaving the Konstantyn's quarters.

 _"Harry?" she mind spoke with some emphasis._

 _"Yes, Hermione! How cool, I can hear you fine. Can you please meet us on the 7th Floor of the Main Castle. We've discovered that to be the likely location of the Room of Requirement, and there's just one more little thing to discuss. How did things go with Myrtle and the Gray Lady?"_

 _"Very well," Hermione continued speaking as she made her way up the randomly changing staircases. "We didn't discover anything particularly new, except that Lady Ravenclaw affirmed that she knew Riddle back in the day, and told him the location of the Diadem. If we HAD any doubts about it, she's ended them. But of course..."_

 _"Yeah, we knew that from the Diary. Ah, well. Well done all! Ron and I have gotten to the top of the stairs. We'll wait for you to get here, and then... we're off!"_

 _"Righto, be right there!" she said cheerily._

 _"Ah yes," Harry thought. "The game is afoot!"_

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! I appreciate the encouragement of the reviews, and the wonderful PM's you send from time to time! I'm so glad you like spending time with Pavel and family! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	15. Harry Seeks the Crown

**Harry Seeks the Crown**

"OK, this just feels strange..." Ron said, as Hermione arrived at the top of the Seventh Floor stairway.

"What does?" Harry asked, a bit concerned.

"This SO feels like something that would get us in trouble. Seems strange that we're not only ALLOWED to do this, but we're getting help to do it."

"Yeah," Harry laughed. I know what you mean. But the Castle won't let the adults do this, so... well, it's up to us." Below them, Ron and Harry could see Hermione making her way up the maze of staircases sweeping from one landing to another. It wasn't just a matter of waiting patiently, but being lucky or canny to make the connection needed, rather than get shunted off to a landing where you "can't get there from here".

"Whew, made it!" Hermione breathed, as she surmounted the last flight of stairs and sat down a moment to catch her breath. The 7th floor was a long hard climb from the Castle entrance where she had been interviewing the Gray Lady.

The boys sat down alongside her as Harry said, "Listen, I want to try one more thing before we start. You know how magic sometimes gives you a 'feeling' when it's working? Maybe when you're riding your broom and you 'feel' it cooperating with you? Or when you cast a charm and there's a buzz along your arm as you move your wand? Or maybe when you're in Diagon Alley, and you cross paths with a dark wizard or witch and you just KNOW that, and it gives you the creeps? Do you ever have magic give you a sensation that's hard to describe, but you know it's there?"

They both nodded as he spoke.

"Well, John was able to connect with the spirit of the Castle, and hooked me into that, and I got to where I could kind of 'feel' what the Castle wanted. It didn't talk, not in words, but it could help me see things and it could make its wishes known. I know the Castle is helping us find this Room just like it helped me find the niche it put in my closet with the parchment with the rhyme, and I want to try to see if we can link up together so you can feel what I felt then. If it works, I'm pretty sure we'll feel something like that when we get close to the entrance to this Room of Requirement, and if we pace back and forth there, we'll probably find it," Harry explained.

"OK, what do you want to do?" Hermione asked.

"Or, what do you want US to do?" Ron clarified.

"Let's link up silently while I remember finding the right stone in my closet, and I'll try to concentrate on exactly what that felt like. Just try to 'see my memory' or enter into it, like we do with Papa sometimes. When we finish that, if we feel ok, I'll bring up another memory of when I first reacted to the Diary. The first time I handled it, nothing happened. But when Papa and Dobby were with me, there was a... well, like a 'hum' or 'vibration' or something. I think, now that I'm more involved with these things and paying more attention, we may be able to sense something from the Diadem, since it's a horcrux. OK?"

Both nodded. "OK," Ron said. "Will this hurt?"

"No, it shouldn't," Harry shook his head emphatically. "In fact, if you feel uncomfortable at all! Especially if there's any pain or tension, tell me to stop. We'll stop right away. I'm going to try hard not to 'push' at all, but just to imagine these memories out there in front of me, like the Dioramas. Then see if you can 'lean into' or get into them in some way. Maybe nothing will happen, but if anything feels like uncomfortable pressure or tightness, we will stop. OK?"

They nodded, as Hermione said, "C'mon. Let's give it a go!"

"OK, let's hold hands. Papa and John often make physical contact when they're sharing magic together." And with this they took one another's hands and closed their eyes.

 _Harry began with mind-speak. "OK, we're all here, right?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Yes."_

 _"OK," Harry continued, "here was the... I don't know what to call it... 'conversation' sort of, with the Castle." And as clearly as he could, as if projecting the scene through Papa's Staff into the Diorama, Harry recreated in his mind's eye, the interactions he had with the Castle. He went through slowly and carefully, trying to focus clearly on the slight buzz at the back of his head as he envisioned the proper stone to tap, and the sense of 'expectancy' in his gut as he probed the Castle for more information on how to trigger the opening. After about two minutes, he mind-spoke, "Are we set? Have either of you got anything?"_

 _Hermione replied silently, "I think so, Harry. This is really interesting. I could see the encounter, and perhaps I've felt what you're describing. We'll have to see."_

 _"Me, too," Ron joined in, mind-speaking._

 _"OK, no discomfort or pain?" Harry asked, still with eyes closed not to lose his contemplative state._

 _"Nope, all good here," Ron replied._

 _"Me, too," Hermione echoed. "Carry on."_

 _"All right, here was the night we discovered the Diary." Again, Harry showed himself entering his bedroom with Dobby and Papa, then the sound and vibration he sensed from Tom Riddle's horcrux, and Papa's careful distancing of him from the book, then placing it in the Stasis Box. After a minute or so, he said, "We good with this? I don't know if it's worked, but we can go on I think."_

 _"That's really cool, mate. Yer gonna be more clever than the Professor, soon," Ron admired._

 _"Ha!" Harry barked. "Not hardly, but thanks for the sentiment. I'm just barely scratching the surface of this stuff... like with a sledgehammer and chisel. Papa, John, and Oxsana do this stuff like with scalpels. But I appreciate the vote of confidence. So, let's go see if we can find us a Crown, eh?" as together they all opened their eyes and dropped hands._

"Sounds good!" Hermione said aloud, as the three of them stood.

They decided to search the floor as they would search a maze, keeping to the 'left hand wall'. That is, they would follow a wall as though touching it with their left hands, wherever it led them. They would pass over doors, knowing the Room opened onto the main corridor, but by following all the twists or turns of the corridor, they'd not miss any section of the wall. Ultimately the edge of the floor would have to turn them around and lead them back to the stairwell from the opposite direction. They were going to circle the entire floor in a clockwise direction.

They set themselves apart by 2 meters or so, literally walking along the wall with their hands touching the stone surface. Hermione took the lead, then Harry, then Ron. If anyone felt like a patch was possibly where the entrance lay, they would walk a good distance forward, then back, then forward again, concentrating hard on _needing the Room where the Diadem was stored._

About 3/4 of the way down the hallway, Hermione slowed a bit. She felt as if the 'air was thicker' here. She couldn't explain what she was feeling, but the broad smooth patch of corridor wall just seemed to slow her down somehow. She decided to say nothing, but see what the others felt.

Harry, at the same point, felt the stones seem to be warmer, and... 'softer'?... than the rest of the wall had been. He walked on past the point, and joined Hermione where she had stopped to look back at the boys.

Ron, apparently, had the clearest perception of the Castle's call. At the very place his compatriots had suspected, he simply stopped, turned to the wall and plastered both hands against the surface, and called out, "Hey, mates. I think... I think we're supposed to check here!"

"OK, lets walk back and forth, concentrating on what we need."

Again, separating themselves by a couple meters, they paced back and forth along that section of the hallway, focused intently on finding the Diadem and having the Room of Requirement open up. As they concluded their third pass, the stones of the wall began to glow and there seemed a low rumbling, almost subaudible hum coming from deep within the Castle. Gradually the lines of a doorway appeared in the vast blankness of the corridor wall, as double doors of oak materialized from the shadowy outlines within the doorway. The heavy oaken doors were studded with rivets securing wrought iron hinges and latching handles. The doors opened before them to reveal the Room of the Lost and Hidden.

All three of them felt the elation of success as together they walked into the high vaulted chamber which, like so many rooms of Hogwarts, seemed much bigger on the inside than the outside. Aisle upon aisle of shelves and tables held artifacts, books, boxes, and bins of every imaginable sort of thing. As they entered, they heard the great doors close firmly behind them as sconces lit up along the walls sequentially outwards from the doors. Chandeliers began to glow, four of them, lighting the four quarters of the vast chamber, brightening until everything was clearly displayed. The marble floor glittered with its high polish, as all the furnishings seemed rich and pristine.

The contents, however, seemed utterly random. While some items were clearly grand and expensive, glittering of gold, silver, polished ivory, or gems, some other items were clearly... well, not to put too fine a point on it... junk. For example, there was a huge bin of random single socks and stockings. It seemed that there was an ancient curse at work in the Castle laundry - among several other places - that 'disappeared' one random sock from every dozen pairs laundered. This pretty well assured that in every - or at least every other - load of laundry, an even number would go in, while an odd number would come out.

It was rumored that an ancient witch once lived among muggles passing herself off as an old washer woman. Once upon a time she had ended her labors for the day when the footman servant of a great king passing by in transit from his castle to a neighboring kingdom pounded desperately on her door seeking succor. The King's baggage coach had been wrecked when a snake spooked the team of horses drawing it. The coach and its chests of finery had been wrecked and dragged through the mud. The seneschal, in charge of His Majesty's livery, begged the old woman to rectify the situation, to launder the King's wardrobe, for which she would be amply rewarded. She declined, as she said she had all she needed and she was already fatigued from a long day's work. The servant begged her to aid them, lest he and the seneschal be beaten for the condition of the King's clothes.

The woman had compassion on them, and accepted the huge piles of clothing and finery to be cleaned. She spent all the night working to wash them, drying them by use of her magical arts. By dawn, the footman returned with other servants to find all the work finished, each cape, robe, sash, undergarment, and hosiery in perfect order... cleaned, dry, and pressed as if new from the tailor. She had even made repairs here and there, as needed. She helped them load all this into their trunks and onto their cart before returning to the footman for her payment. He motioned for the servants to drive on as he mounted his horse to say, "We know you are naught but an old witch living here in the forest. There will be no payment for you. Be grateful the King does not have you slain for the practice of sorcery within his domain. Good day to you!" and with a laugh and a contemptuous doff of his cap he rode off.

The old woman said nothing, but turned back into her cabin, tired and saddened by the selfishness of the short sighted. She decided to teach them a lesson, and cast a mild curse upon their house... that one sock or stocking would disappear from every laundered batch, and find its way to another household where selfish people dwelt. The curse would continue as long as selfish people, thinking they were clever, were cheating the poor, the widowed, or the orphaned. When the cheating stopped, the curse would end. At last report, it was still going strong. Apparently a number of those "extra socks" were stored in this bin of the lost.

Then there was the bookstand upon which rested a leather diary with a gold-embossed label on the front identifying it as belonging to Edgar Allen Poe, alongside what seemed to be a paired quill and bottle of ink. Kaguya's Shawl was draped around a tailor's stand, with an identifying note pinned to it. Random armor stands stood around different parts of the room, displaying suits in varying degrees of completion or damage. A bust stood on a small table showing a simple circlet, bringing them to run over in excitement. The item, however, was identified as "The Furst Crown of Englande". One shelf held an item that looked like it would be of interest to Professor Snape labelled, "Baba Yaga's Cauldron" within which rested a wooden spoon. There was an odd collection of balls, bats, snitches, bludgers, and quaffles contained noisily in a cage.

The children were so tempted to handle and touch everything as they gradually walked exploring, that Harry laughingly called out, "Hands in pockets, mates! We can't be sure how many of these things may be cursed. Let's not be handling things, until we know their natures for sure. Apparently we can come back and explore at leisure later. Right now, we need to stay on task."

On one wall was a mounted stuffed Marlin. Apparently a muggle trophy with a simple tournament championship inscription of no particular magical significance. In a cabinet protected by a glass bell jar sat the miniscule Queen Mab's chariot, carved from a walnut, with silver tracings, hitched to the petrified beetles that once drew it across the eyes or lips of sleepers, shaping their dreams.

"Let's split up, and try not to touch anything. Call out if you feel anything weird or trying to influence you, or if you spot something you think might be the Diadem, OK?" Harry suggested.

"Righto," Ron answered.

"All right," Hermione responded.

Down the aisle Ron chose, he found a small table with a bottle that apparently held some beverage, and a plate with a small cake on it. The accompanying labels read "Drink me" at the bottle, and "Eat me" at the cake. Ron passed them by with little struggle. He carried on, keeping his hands in his pockets.

Hermione's aisle included a number of bookshelves with titles that fascinated her. She too, had to exercise considerable restraint in refraining from touching or taking down any of the tomes to explore. Then she came upon a shelf that held a broken bloody axe with a huge ring of archaic keys, with one small key set aside stained in blood. No label identified the items, but Hermione needed no prompting to leave the items alone. She, too, headed on down examining the myriad of odd articles without handling them.

Harry explored his walkway carefully, reading all the tags or pondering a moment or two trying to identify them. There was a bin of countless Hogwarts student robes, displaying the wide spectrum of style and house crests that spanned the millenium of the school's history. Trophies, photographs, paintings, lithographs, racks of robes, jackets and cloaks, roll top desks, overstuffed chairs, ottomans, sofas... Harry wondered how or why in the world such items could be lost or hidden.

Finally, all three aisles ended at one end of the room, opening onto a vast open space with tables of jewelry, silver tea services and flatwear, and countless shiny objects. In the middle of the space, sitting alone on a circular table, they all spotted an alabaster bust of Rowena Ravenclaw... wearing... the Diadem. Slowly they approached the table, and all three of them could "feel" the vibrations of magical force emanating from the item.

Hermione whispered, in an awestruck tone, "There it is. Oh, isn't it beautiful!" and almost unknowing, her hand began to reach out to grasp the circlet.

"DON'T, Hermione! Don't touch it!" Harry cautioned.

She drew her hand back a few inches, still looking at the gorgeous silver crown with its emerald center stone with rapturous admiration, "It's... it's calling to me, Harry. I would learn so much if I put it on! I LOVE learning, Harry! I have to have this!" and again she began to move towards the Diadem with outstretched hand.

"Ron!" Harry called from behind her, "Stop her!"

Ron dashed in front of her to block her progress. "Hermione!" he barked. "HERMIONE! LOOK AT ME!" he cried out, standing in front of her preventing her from moving forward any further.

She was looking past him at the bust and circlet, seeming neither to see or hear him.

Finally, Ron grabbed her by the upper arms and gently shook her to try to get her attention. "MIONE! It's me, Ron! Look at me! Snap out of it!" Gently he grasped her head to focus in her eyes and break her gaze.

Slowly, as though waking from a dream, she came back to herself. "Oh, my. I don't know what just happened. I just knew that... if I put the Diadem on, all my questions would be answered. I would know all the things I so urgently want to learn and to know. It was all I could think about!"

"I'm just glad you're back. That was scary," Ron said, deeply concerned about whether she was truly OK.

They looked about for a tag or identifying card, and found none.

"Do any of us doubt that this is the Diadem of Ravenclaw?" Harry asked.

"No indeed. I see what you mean about 'feeling' magic. This all but screams out what it is." Ron said.

"Absolutely. Even now, it's hard for me not to try to put it on my head," Hermione admitted.

"All right then, let's go back and get the Stasis Box, shall we?" Harry said, gently taking Hermione's arm in his as Papa would escort a lady to or from the dinner table. In truth, he wanted to encourage her safely away from the artifact and prevent the possibility of her making an unexpected break back to the object. He didn't feel absolutely safe until the three of them were out the doors and back into the corridor.

As they exited, they turned around to watch the doors turn pale and fade back into the stones, as the doorway outline disappeared. Just seconds after they left, the wall looked utterly untouched. Harry released Hermione's arm as they silently made their way back to the portal to the Konstantyn's. Stepping through, all eyes were on them as Pavel, John, and Oxsana refrained from shooting questions at them.

Noting their expressions of concern, as they still thought about Hermione's reaction, Pavel asked, "Is everyone all right?"

They nodded. "Yes, Papa. We're fine. Um... we need the box though," Harry said.

"May I make a suggestion?" Papa asked gently, as his protective instincts were prompted by the look on their faces.

"Of course, what's that?" Harry asked.

"Since it's just a few minutes until supper in the Great Hall, and you all look like you could use a bit of a break, why don't we go eat first? Then, when we get back, you can take the Box and go get it. I can tell you are all fine, but also that there's been a bit of strain. I don't need to know about it, but I suspect you will all feel better and stronger after you've sat for a good meal and relaxed a bit. How does that sound?"

There was a strong part of Harry that just wanted to get on with it. He was so near the finish, he hesitated from delaying. On the other hand, he also felt that Hermione would benefit from a break. He decided that since the Diadem had sat there, apparently undisturbed for 50 years, another half hour or so wouldn't make a bit of difference. So, his caretaking nature overcame his ambition, as he said, "That sounds fine, Papa. Why don't we do that, guys?"

Both Ron and Hermione, though they, too, felt the desire to get this finished, agreed to the supper break and nodded their assent.

Conversation was subdued at the Gryffindor table where the children ate. At first, silence prevailed, until finally the mood of the room over came them, boisterous as it was with students all relieved from the end of their examinations, and excited over the upcoming holidays. All around them, their friends were discussing their plans for the break, whether they were heading home or off on some trip with family or friends. At first, that was the topic for the children's discussion.

"So tell me again, why we're having an American holiday feast next week?" Hermione asked.

Harry laughed, "Because John Constantine is an American! The years he was there, he got used to their calendar and this became one of his favorite holidays. He said it reminded him of Christmas, without all the expense of gift-giving. Instead, one apparently focuses on some serious over eating, and sports. Their American 'football', no less. Major games are televised through most of the weekend. Anyway, John really likes the holiday and the food, so he wants to re-create it at the Chalet."

"My parents are really looking forward to it. They don't often take off for vacation time together," Hermione smiled. "I've certainly never been able to offer them a holiday trip. The Professor was so clever to phrase his invitation to them so that it seemed they'd be doing him a great favor by coming. He wanted a chance to meet the family of Harry's good friend, as he was new as your parent. Ha! As if he needed their advice on that!" she laughed.

"Yeah, he did the same with my family. Of course, considering that the Twins and I... heck, even Percy... have been telling them about him, and how protective they are of you, Harry... it didn't take him a lot of persuasion to get them to come. He must have a golden tongue indeed, though, to get them to agree to come for a week. My Dad never takes off work for very long, unless its something very important," Ron said.

Harry nodded, "I think Papa plans to discuss some Ministry business with Mr. Weasley on this trip. He talked with John and Oxsana about some plans he had as they work with the Law Enforcement Division. I know he's looking forward to the Twins giving him that lawn mower and rake from last weekend."

Ron laughed, "Yeah. Dad's really going to love that."

As the meal wended its way through cheese to pudding, Pavel watched the children closely without seeming to pay the slightest attention. John was also concerned, speculating idly on what had shaken them. Severus and Minerva were very interested in what could be reported of the youngsters' adventures, and also cast unnoticed surreptitious glances their way, reassured as the children's conversational rhythms and laughter showed them returning to normal.

Meal finished, all headed back to the homestead, and Harry and company waited patiently for the adults to arrive. As students, they could wander out at will, where faculty tended to wait until the Headmaster rose, unless they had other pressing business. Pavel lost no time once he got there, but walked straight to his Study and came out holding the Stasis Box.

Handing it to Harry, he said, "Here you are. We look forward to your arrival back," and said nothing more.

Harry took it carefully, laid it down on the dining table for a moment, then open and closed it with his wand to make sure he knew how to operate it. "Thank you, Papa. We should be back quite soon."

"Go safely!" Pavel sent them with his blessings and a cheery wave, as he sat down by the fire looking calm and opening a book to read as he sat.

The children headed straight out, then up the staircases again on the climb to the 7th Floor. Remembering precisely where the door would appear, they paced backwards and forwards three times, expressing their need to find the Room holding the Diadem.

The doors appeared quickly and efficiently, the children entered, and Hermione hung back behind Harry and Ron as they made their way straight to the bust of Rowena Ravenclaw. Just as before, the Diadem sparkled above her brow as Harry gently put the Stasis Box down on the table alongside the statue, and opened it with a wave of his wand. Using Wingardium Leviosa, the three of them floated the Diadem of Ravenclaw into the Stasis Box and wanded the lid closed, heaving a sigh of relief. They didn't realize they'd stopped breathing, until they started again.

Harry picked up the box and the three headed resolutely to the door. They didn't look left or right, not even tempted by the overwhelming array of interesting objects all around them. They just headed straight back down to the Fat Lady's Portrait landing, and walked through the portal to Konstantyn's quarters. Holding the box gingerly away from his chest, Harry walked with it over to the dining table and put it down, backing away proudly.

"Here it is!" Harry announced, proudly. "Are you all right, Hermione?" he asked, still a bit concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine now, I think," Hermione smiled, nodding her head.

Pavel, John, and Oxsana, accompanied by Minerva, Severus, and Albus... all walked over to the table as the children backed off a step or two to give them room.

"Well DONE! To Harry and to ALL of you! That's a fine accomplishment. Were there any problems you'd like to share?" Pavel asked.

The boys looked a bit apprehensively at Hermione, who spoke up without hesitation,"The Diadem seemed to... Well, I had an almost overwhelming urge to grasp it and put it on my head. I was suddenly filled with the realization of the knowledge and wisdom it contained, and that by putting it on all that would be mine. It was very tempting. Ron and Harry stopped me, but the call of it to me was profound."

"Ah, I understand completely," Pavel nodded. "Well if we needed evidence of this being the genuine article, I think such concerns are satisfied now. That temptation makes perfect sense. The magic surrounding this article is intense, and for one who prizes learning and knowledge as much as you do, Hermione, the appeal of an item like this would be almost irresistible. Why don't the three of you then, back up just a bit, and we'll see what we have here?"

So saying, he wanded the Box open and levitated the Diadem out and onto the table. The beautiful accoutrement sat there catching the light of the dancing fireplace flames, as the emerald green stone set in the brow almost glowed. Such a lovely thing it was. For long moments everyone just stood there nearly breathless with admiration.

"Excellent, Harry! Truly excellent work!" Pavel beamed.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know if you have a moment! :) Thanks so much! I appreciate the encouragement of the reviews, and the wonderful PM's you send from time to time! I'm so glad you like spending time with Pavel and family! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	16. After Action Report

**After Action Report**

Together, the Konstantyns and their guests just stood and admired the beauty of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, as it sat in all its splendor at the center of their dining table. Pavel was incredibly proud of how well Harry had planned and executed this mission with the help of his friends serving as his action team. They had done well, very well indeed.

"Professor?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, dear girl," Pavel replied warmly.

"I don't understand, really. Why does this pull on me so? Even now, it's really hard for me to stand over here just a few feet away. I want to walk over to it, and put it on. I want that more than anything else in the world."

"And yet, through your discipline and will, you stand still over there, where you've been instructed. That speaks very well of you and your self-control. All right then, let's look at this as an opportunity to understand a bit more of how magic works. This object, at the time of the Founders, was imbued with knowledge and possibly wisdom by Rowena Ravenclaw. That may have been intentional on her part, or perhaps not. But the draw of this, the 'pull' of it, especially when combined with what appears to be the jealously of her daughter, tempted her daughter beyond her self control to steal it... believing it would make her smarter, more 'worthy' in her own eyes, than her mother. Correct?"

"Yes, Professor, that is the legend as Professor Binns taught it in our first year," Hermione nodded.

"All right, so we have a powerful magical artifact, stolen by another powerful witch in a momentary lapse whether of jealousy or parental rebellion, who is then overcome with shame and remorse, when she dons the Diadem and is disappointed at the result. Interestingly, we do not know whether the gem failed to give her more knowledge and she succumbed to disappointment, or whether in gaining new wisdom she realized how deeply she had violated the trust of the one who loved her most and succumbed to shame. But regardless, she hid away the Diadem and refused to return with her suitor, whom her mother had sent to retrieve her. Yes?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

"So, to the layers already embued in the artifact, we add the extreme drama of either disappointment and guilt, or sudden insight and self-knowledge, and shame. Then, comes the last layer of the tragedy... her refusal to return, the Baron's lapse of sanity in his rage upon stabbing her, and then his own despondency and despair in taking his own life. Their afterlives so traumatized they cannot rest in peace, but return to Hogwarts forever together, yet eternally separated. Rather Shakespearean, is it not?"

"I'd really never thought of it that way, sir," she chuckled. "It's always just been... well, you know... just 'history'... before. Not a tragic tale of romance!"

"Ach! Schtudents!" Pavel sighed, lapsing a bit in accent in his irritation. "Hvenn vill you learn? ALL 'history', as you put it... ISSsss dramatic... whether tragedy, or comedy, or romance. If it were not, we would not remember the story! It is ALVAYS a story worth remembering, else we'd not bother to write it down or retell it by the fireside!"

"Or the bedside," Harry muttered under his breath.

"All right, enough about 'history'. Now back to Magic! Right now, where you stand, Hermione... how strongly do you feel the attraction of the object, say... on a scale from one to ten?" Pavel asked, regaining his "professional" voice.

Her parents being dentists, Hermione knew this scale question in terms of "How would you rate your pain right now?" She thought a moment, then answered, "I'd say a seven right now. It's pretty strong."

"Good. Now, move away from the table. Walk over to the fireplace there, about 15 feet away or so, then take a moment and tell us."

Hermione moved as instructed, stood over near 'her corner', when she was in trouble or in Solidarity, paused a few moments with her eyes shut, and said, "OK, over here it's a lot better. Like maybe a four. I'm still _thinking_ about it, but my hands aren't like... itching... about it. I'm still wanting it, but not nearly as badly as before."

"Right, now, we're nearly finished. Oxsana?" Pavel looked to his soon-to-be daughter-in-law, as she nodded in assent, "Would you please take Hermione into your quarters as far as necessary until Hermione says she cannot feel the pull of the Diadem anymore? Or, to the furthest point of your apartment, whichever comes first."

"Certainly!" she stretched out an inviting arm welcoming Hermione into her home as they slowly walked down the hall past her bedrooms and into her own living room area. They stopped about 20 feet from the door, maybe halfway to the far wall, and turned around.

"Here, Professor. I don't feel it at all here." Hermione called out clearly.

"Thank you! You may return," the Professor called back. "Now, we had a 7 up here 4 feet from the table, a 4 over there 15 feet away, and we hit 0 out about 35 feet from the object. But now, when you move closer to the object, the pull will increase quite dramatically. In fact, if you don't mind, would you be willing to demonstrate something a bit more difficult for us, Hermione?"

"Of course, Professor," she nodded, a bit confused at the request.

"You may find this a bit more challenging, my dear," he smiled. "Please let John and Oxsana hold your hands, and they are to hold them firmly and not let go. Then I'd like you to step closer to the Diadem, as close as you can stand. Then back off whenever you must, or feel you can. All right? Please begin from the point where you said the pull was a seven, then move forward a little at a time, telling us if or when the number goes up."

John and Oxsana had both taken part in this demonstration before, on "Cursed Objects", so they knew that their jobs were simply to prevent Hermione from touching the Diadem, without hurting her or allowing her to hurt herself.

Slowly, beginning with just one foot, Hermione drew closer to the table. Her eyes riveted on the circlet, focused unblinkingly on the green stone in its centre. In a dreamlike voice she said, "Eight..." as she continued to inch forward with a fluid shuffling step. Just a few inches closer came, "Nine..." and by the time she reached the table's edge, "Ten!" as she tried to reach out to touch the Diadem, to grasp it, to wear it. She seemed enthralled, confused that her hands would not respond to her will as she tried to take the artifact.

Oxsana and John had her arms wrapped in shielding that allowed them no motion forward beyond her body, as though muffled up in bubble wrap or cotton wool. She shook her head slowly as her face expressed her confusion.

"THANK YOU, Hermione," Pavel's voice rapped out sharply, breaking her reverie. "You may back up now," as Oxsana and John gently drew her backwards again to that four foot mark where she could maintain her control.

"There, ladies and gentlemen, you see one of the distinguishing characteristics of Dark Magic used for unnatural attraction. A cursed item may be attractive to all people for some reason, or, as in this case, it may appeal only to a very specific set of motives or characteristics. The essence of this object, when combined with the influence of both the horcrux presence within it, as well as the curses laid upon it by the Enemy, are a perfect storm for our Hermione... as it would be for any student as hungry for learning as she. The point so capably demonstrated here, that I wanted to show, was that the force of the attraction here is like magnetism or gravity. That is, as one comes closer to the object, the force rises exponentially. It is not an 'even' pull that gets gradually stronger, but as one gets close enough actually to interact with the object, its pull can become effectively irresistible. When you see this effect on people, quarantine that object until it can be examined safely. Should you, yourself, ever feel an unnatural curiosity or attractiveness to some object, let that immediately prompt you to caution and self-examination. If you find your feelings, your appetite or desire, to vary by distance, as you've just seen... notify someone and steer clear of it until it can be investigated.

"Have you recovered your composure, Hermione?" Pavel asked, pleasantly?

"Yes, Professor, I think so. That was so strange..." she shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs.

"Then I think you've earned the privilege. Please draw your wand," and he paused as she did so. "Now, I'll open the Stasis Box. Please levitate the Diadem inside it. Then close the lid on it, again, with your wand. This act will help you clear the momentary obsession from your mind."

She complied with the instructions as John and Oxsana kept a casual but canny eye on her against any unexpected movements, though they knew Pavel would be well ahead of them in case of any such lapse.

The lid went "Thud!" with satisfying finality, as all observers drew their collective breath.

"Thank you, Hermione. And there, ladies and gentlemen, I will leave our Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for the evening, eh? So, I think we've all earned a bit of refreshment. Let me place this in my Study for now, unless... Headmaster? Would you prefer..."

"No, no, dear friend. Your Study will be more than adequate. Do I gather that you may be able to, erm... 'disarm' it, so to speak, without destruction?" Dumbledore asked.

"Perhaps. That is, at least, my intention and hope. There is no particular need to destroy the item if I can unwrap the threads of fate and prime that have been woven into it by Riddle. Then, of course, there will be Riddle to deal with... but not tonight," Pavel replied.

"Well then, let us all sit down, and be educated by our juniors here. Without betraying any of the Castle's confidences as to location or means of entry, what can you tell us of your adventures?" Albus beamed at his young investigators, as they all sat around the fireplace to hear the story from top to bottom.

Quietly, Pavel set the Box on his most warded and unassailable shelf. Not even the Headmaster's Office was more secure in its collection of paraphernalia than the magical wards and protections that surrounded that Box this night. And so with total peace of mind and intense pride, Pavel went out to his living room to listen to the youngest team of magical enforcement operatives he had ever fielded, give their first report.

This had been a good night.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thank you for your patience with my posting. Holidays/Family sorts of wonderful things. I think I'm back now. Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know. :) Thanks so much! I appreciate the encouragement of the reviews, and the wonderful PM's you send from time to time! I'm so glad you like spending time with Pavel and family! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	17. Pennants and Crests

**Pennants and Crests**

The Chalet had been transformed into a Winter Wonderland through the tireless efforts of both elves and wizards while the family had been off engaged in their scholarly pursuits. When the family first arrived, Pavel, Harry, John and Oxsana had been nearly knocked over by Misha's enthusiastic greeting, followed almost instantly by Boris and Odessa who actually managed to launch towards them before Pavel's upraised finger and stern look quelled their enthusiasm. Deftly stepping aside, both Pavel and John managed to evade the leaps, as the crestfallen canines settled for full-body hugs culminating in some serious belly rubs. Pavel laughed as he then dismissed them either to their rugs or outside, their choice. Low grumbly woofly whines accompanied their dejected treks to their carpets, impatiently to await another turn.

Outside, brightly colored banners and bunting, boughs and wreathes ensconced torches and lanterns that would doubtless be lit when darkness arrived in just a few hours. Even indoors, while the windows facing the sun lit the Study and southern side of the Dining and Living Rooms, the Kitchen had no direct light and took on a blue gray cast. However, outside the Kitchen, encompassing the patio and firepit along with a large portion of the lawn space on which they had enjoyed their snowball fight, a vast pavilion tent was spread with enough marginal space surrounding that the children would be able to get out to play or ski without fear of bumping into or damaging it in the least. Every now and again, an elf would walk past the double-flap door sealing its interior off from view as they walked too and from the elvish quarters carrying one or another item.

"Papa?" Harry asked, looking through the Kitchen windows at the colorful monstrosity before him, "What's inside the tent?"

"That, my son, is off limits until Ivan says otherwise. That space belongs to him and Oxsana and their varied minions until they are ready. Not even I know what is there, nor am I allowed to breach those barriers until they say so," Pavel confessed, walking over to gaze at the spectacle alongside Harry.

"Seriously?" Harry looked up at him, amazed.

"Seriously!" John laughingly answered from behind him, laying down some wrapped parcels on the kitchen counters. "And that goes DOUBLE for you, Little Brother. You keep your cotton-pickin' nose out of that tent until we're ready. You hear? That's a surprise for the party when everyone gets here, so... no peeking."

"Pfft! But that's DAYS away!" Harry whined. Anyone with eyes could immediately see the wheels begin to turn in Harry's head. "So..." Harry began, speculatively... "Is that an 'order' then?"

John laughed, "I'm going to say 'no'. It's not that that is an 'order' from Papa, nor even from me. Take it as more of a 'warning'. The issue is not that you'd by punished for disobedience. There are some rather 'assertive' defenses and wards on that tent, constructed by both Oxsana and myself. I warn you right now, if you try to breach that tent, the results will be your own doing, all right?"

"Right!" Harry nodded with satisfaction. _He mind-spoke, "Papa, did he just tell me that thing is booby-trapped?"_

 _"Well spotted, son. Yes, he did."_

 _"Ah. Well, if you were me, would you read this as a 'challenge to be surmounted?'"_

 _"That's not a hard question. If I were YOU, of course I would. Now, do I myself read it as one right now? No, no I don't. One thing perhaps you should know, THIS is not an unusual thing here. I used to do this at times for John or Oxsana, whether their birthdays or a holiday. If Iryna and I planned a party, I would set up such a tent, booby trap it, and forbid the children entry until party time. Then... it was 'game on' as they tried to defeat our defenses."_

 _"So... it wasn't a matter of disobedience? Right."_

 _"Not exactly. Neither of them ever were spanked for disobedience or trespass. They did, however, often choose to stand for a meal or two. We didn't touch them, you understand. But some of our traps were... self-enforcing, so to speak."_

 _"Really? And you let them stay that way? I'd have thought you'd heal them!"_

 _"Of course I would have! Had they asked or mentioned it. They were just both too stubborn and proud to ever admit they got caught," Pavel chuckled at the memory. "Besides, Iryna put cushioning charms everywhere, and healed them when she thought I didn't know anyway. I could always count on that without worry," and his eyes took on that same wistful look they so often did when he would speak of her._

"I wish I could have known her, Papa. I can see how much you miss her. Makes me think of my parents sometimes," Harry mused aloud, as they headed out the front door towards the _Gasthausen._

Pavel planned to show Harry the quarters prepared for the Weasleys, the Grangers, and the Snape party. Oxsana and her mother were going to stay at their own home, as they could floo back and forth conveniently, and it was always nice to be at home with your own belongings when you had to travel as much as Oxsana did. When she got to spend time at home with her Mama, it was like transporting back to carefree youth... a rare blessing for one who bore life or death responsibility day in and day out.

It was easy to distinguish one house from another. All three shared what appeared to be a cul-de-sac about 150 meters from the front entrance of the house. Two more houses shared the circle, with gorgeous landscaping throughout. One house seemed a bit larger than the others, all decorated in Gryffindor colors and bunting. Then there was an empty, or at least undecorated, house. Then in the center of the row stood another more modest cottage of Gryffindor theme, followed by another plain cottage without decoration. At the end stood the last, a modest cottage done in Slytherin colors. Harry could easily make out whose would be whose, as he admired the fountain and winter foliage in all its evergreen splendor that filled a curbed circle in the centre of what seemed a traffic roundabout in the midst of the lane to the bungalows.

"Don't tell me, let me guess... bigger on the inside?" Harry grinned, as randomly he scooped up a handful of snow, considering whether or not to dare a snowball towards Papa. He practiced trying to occlude his mind, not to broadcast his possible intended attack.

"Of course, but go see for yourself!" Pavel laughed encouragingly, nodding Harry onwards to explore their guest quarters. He could feel Harry starting to occlude his thoughts, and he now made it a habit to withdraw his own senses over Harry when he knew Harry was "spontaneously plotting". One, it made it more fun for the both of them, and since it was normally some form of limited tactic or combat, it improved Harry's performance and confidence to know that Pavel truly did not know what he was about to do. Seeing Harry absent mindedly forming a snowball, however, obviated any need for mind magic to intuit the lad's possible plans. Pavel walked on sedately, apparently oblivious, while Harry picked up the pace to jog to what would clearly be the Weasley's house.

Arriving at the front door, Harry politely waited for the old man to catch up before opening the latch. Wiping the caked snow off their booted feet, Pavel nodded for Harry to enter. He opened the door to a most welcoming sight. There wasn't so much an "entry way" as a considerable space of ceramic tile floor with various hooks and catches along the wall for hats, coats and scarves, opening onwards to a grand big living space strewn with fur rugs on the stone floor, comfortable fabric over upholstered chairs and sofas that looked ready to swallow any who dared sit upon them, and a scattering of small tables ready to hand from any seat. In the very centre of this open living space was a great stone open hearth fireplace that allowed heat and visibility everywhere through the space. The flames already danced merrily as, just as in the main house, this central space opened to a vaulted ceiling the height of the house. Spiral stairs allowed access to the two upper floors from near this Living Room, while a more sedate stairway led up by classical landings to the second floor along the far wall of one side. Harry could see all along the railed hallway of the second floor, where at the opposite end from the first staircase, a second led up from the second to third floor. On one side of the ground floor there was a well-equipped kitchen with all the conveniences and table and chairs enough to seat the entire clan, along with a more formal Dining Room not far away, again with seating for all.

"So many rooms, Papa?" Harry breathed, a bit taken aback.

"They can share as they choose, of course. But we thought they could have the chance to each have their own rooms, though I expect the Twins will prefer to bunk together. It seems that both Bill and Charlie will be able to spend at least a few days here with the family. I have a few friends in the Romanian Ministry, and mentioned that I should like to consult with Charlie on import/export laws and dragon safety regarding my new position in Britian. As to Bill, well... Gringott's and I do considerable business together from time to time. I've done some consulting with the Twins on decor... go up to the top and check out Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedsit and tell me what you think. In fact, go ahead and check all of it out! I'll be here or out back... Begone, waif!" he shouted, with a dismissive wave, as he walked towards what seemed like a solid glass wall behind the Dining Table that looked out upon the gorgeous mountainside and peaks there south of the property.

With a wave of his hand, the floor-to-ceiling glass wall quickly outlined and slid open a door, allowing egress onto a gorgeous gray slate patio with its own firepit, seats, and table off to the side. Stone pavers made a walkway out a bit from the house and then curving around to encircle all the houses for easy access without accumulating snow. The pavers were charmed to keep the walkway clear and warm, so that there was even fine alpine moss growing between them like mortar between bricks. Since all five cottages were constructed in the severe arc of the cul-de-sac, this "back yard" was a wide slice of pie facing the mountain. Thus, each cottage had its own landscaped privacy and view of one or another angle of the mountain ridge, without having eyeline through or into any neighbor's. Unless a guest walked out far enough to stroll along the communal walkway, they could not be seen from a neighboring house.

Harry bounded up the end staircase and began exploring the rooms one by one. Each had comfortable furnishings, desk, chairs, fireplace, and exterior window. As he entered each, the lighting came up as needed giving a warm and cozy feel of old wood, leather, and books, with games and toys scattered throughout the rooms. Each room had its own bath attached... magical architecture was so much fun... and the end room nearest the stairs up was clearly intended for Ginny. The colors, fabrics, and lighting were subtly different, a bit more feminine without simpering.

The Third Floor was smaller in footprint than the other two, as the roof incline allowed for a bit less space, but even so... Apparently the entire floor was the "Master Apartment", as there were sitting rooms, two bathrooms and a positively massive bedroom with seating area included. It was the decor that surprised Harry though. It didn't seem to fit the surroundings. It was done in a distinctly British style, rather like a "Bed and Breakfast" found in a resort town, rather than a chalet nestled in Transylvanian mountains.

Harry was surprised to find Pavel standing silently behind him at the doorway. "Vell?" Papa asked, his smile quite clear in the tone of his voice. "Vot do you think?"

"It's... it's all gorgeous. They're going to love it. But why is this room so different?" Harry chuckled, a bit confused.

"Well, because the Twins shared with me the story of their parents' honeymoon. They apparently had a wonderful time staying at a place they always intend to get back to, but have never had the chance. So, I did a little research, found the place and the decor, and voila... Bob's your uncle, as they say. We shall see if they can enjoy their time here. It's the least I can do for the wonderful family they've been for you. I hope it will be a bit of a surprise for them. We're also putting a portal in from the ground floor to here so they don't have to deal with all the stairs if they choose not to."

"Ha!" Harry barked. "The Burrow has plenty of stairs, Papa."

"Of course. And they're welcome to navigate them here as well, if they choose. But it is always nice to have the choice. Come now, want to see Hermione and Draco's?"

"Sure. But this is just wonderful, Papa. Thank you so much for making this all so nice for them. I know they'll enjoy it. I saw elves stocking up the shelves and cooler with food supplies here a moment ago. Will Mrs. Weasley have to cook? I thought the elves were preparing meals. Well, they and John for Thanksgiving, of course."

"I suspect Mrs. Weasley is so accustomed to making meals and caring for her family, she might feel a bit uncomfortable to be relegated entirely to leisure. So, she may certainly do so if she enjoys that. But I have a feeling she may at least want to bake, or prepare lunches or something, whether for all of us or just for her own children from time to time. I've TRIED to instruct the elves to allow her to do as she pleases, even if that is to work... though I don't know how that will go. A few of them remember Iryna, who also preferred preparing many of our own meals, so... if they treat her as they did my wife, I think it will work out. We shall see."

"All right. Now, Papa... as we go on, and while we're far enough away from John that I know that even with that bloody 'extraordinary hearing' of yours..." Harry nodded acknowledgment of the unspoken reprimand of 'language' that Pavel refrained from uttering... "will you help me break through John's tent? I have this strong feeling John's set it out there like a test. It's a red cape in front of a bull."

"I tell you what. I, for myself, will not broach the tent. I will, however, assist you in any way you specifically ask, if YOU wish to broach it. That is, I will not comply with a request to 'break the Tent open for me, Papa.' However, if you want me to watch something, cover something, answer a question, coach with a spell... I shall assist you however I can. I will not help you think of new things, but as you think of things, I will help you understand, plan, or execute them. Fair enough?"

"That's terrific! That would be the only fun way. All right, I actually have an idea, but I wasn't sure if you'd find it too risky, so I didn't know whether to try it or not," Harry looked thoughtful.

"OK, what's the idea?" Pavel listened, looking ahead as they walked the back garden flagstone path past the vacant house up to the two story glass wall at the back of the Granger Cottage.

Entering, Harry turned to Pavel and said, "I want to try a transformation, right now. And if I have trouble, you can help or rescue me, OK?"

"All right, go ahead." Pavel nodded.

Harry closed his eyes to focus on his _imago_ , finally twisting his head a bit with an expression rather like he was hearing an uncomfortably high pitched sound, and then... "POOF!" He was gone. In his place, hovered a housefly. It was masterfully done, proper size, semi iridescent colors green/violet and even the right tonal pitch of the buzz. Without further prompting, it flew over to Pavel and landed on his right shoulder, just below his ear.

"Very nicely done, Harry. Good job!"

 _"Buzzzz... buzz... buzz..."_

"Harry, let me remind you to use mind-speak now. I've no intention of transforming into a housefly. And were I to transform into one of my accustomed bats, I'm not sure I could resist the snack. So..."

 _"Sorry, Papa. I've been trying to study various zoology books lately so I could expand my selection. But this is a really odd transformation. It feels all wrong."_

"I understand, Harry. Some creatures are similar to us in size, or shape, or constitution. This creature is totally alien. Insectoid, exoskeleton, cold-blooded, such a fast metabolism and short life-span. Even the frequency of wingbeats... so high... so much different than the little dragon form you took the other day, eh? Do you feel uncomfortable? This drastic a transition can leave you with a bit of a headache when you're not accustomed to it."

 _"I can believe that. I don't have a headache... yet. But I do feel... stuffy like. Pressed, or pressured. I don't think this would be comfortable for very long. Would it harm me over time?"_

"I don't think so, no. Certainly not beyond the pain you'd feel. You'd give the form up out of discomfort before you'd start to take any actual damage. Still, not your best choice unless needed for something..."

 _"Ah, you see where I was thinking of taking this?" Harry let out an audible buzzy little chuckle. "I was thinking I might could ride in with an elf walking me through the doorway of John's tent. Whether this fly, or crawling in as an ant, or something like that. What do you think?"_

"I think its an excellent idea. Now, as ever, son... what are the potential risks to this form? You see some advantages... concealment, size, the unexpected nature of the disguise... now what are the drawbacks? In the meantime, why don't you transform back and avoid the possible headache?" and Pavel reached his hand to his shoulder letting Harry crawl onto the back of it, then waved him off to fly to the ground on his own.

A moment later, "POOF!" Harry had returned. "Drawbacks... well, there's that one, for a start. I could get swatted, if someone mistook me for a real fly."

"Remember, son, when you're transformed... you ARE a 'real fly'... subject to all the drawbacks or vulnerabilities thereof. What else?"

"Predators? Like you and your bat? Or... well... I don't know if there are any frogs or lizards around and active here this time of year." Harry mused.

"Follow that thought, Harry... stay right there, and think that through. What about this time of year?" Pavel prompted.

"It's cold..."

"Yes, and..." Pavel prompted.

"And... and what? I don't get it..." Harry looked confused.

"How many flies do you see around us today?"

"None. Well, just me..."

"Right. And why are there none?"

"Ah, I see. They can't take the cold, can they? They're cold blooded, so they die off and then eggs hatch in the warm weather come spring?"

"Right, Harry. If you're planning to be transported across snowy ground for any distance, be aware you'll have very little time before you are rendered lethargic at best, or die of exposure at worst. 'Fly', or any cold-blooded creature who isn't endothermic, is a risky bet in the dead of winter. I'm not saying 'don't do it'. I'm just saying be sure you have either a source of warmth traveling with you, or that you have a fall back plan knowing when to abort if you find you're at risk."

As they walked through the Granger's guest quarters, then out the front door, Harry suddenly burst out laughing. Pavel could tell by the tone, it wasn't just the question of flies that had tickled him so, but he was occluding Harry's thoughts so was honestly puzzled at the humor. "What is it, son?"

"I was just suddenly struck by how much fun you must have been to hang out with, back when you were my age!" Harry replied.

Pavel huffed a bit at this, snorting with a chuckle, "Vell... there ARE those, who vould think I'm not all that boring to 'hang out with' even NOW!"

"ACK! I didn't mean it that way, Papa. That just sounded so much better in my head a minute ago. I meant..." Harry blustered, trying to figure out how to 'fix it'.

"No, no, son..." Pavel laughed, "I know what you meant. And I think I even take it as a compliment. Have no fear, you've not hurt my feelings at all. But, you may be a bit surprised. I probably wouldn't have been near as much fun as you think. Venn I vas your age, I vas much more serious than this. I vos being raised very differently than you are. My expectations and challenges were different. My father vas a wonderful man, very wise and kind. But we seldom had 'fun' together, unless hunting or in sport. And the times were different, things were much more serious. I was constantly being tested. Everything was a test, a challenge. There are times being Harry Potter puts pressure on you, makes you feel you cannot be yourself. I can relate to that, because at your age... being Pavel Konstantyn certainly put pressure on me, and made me feel I could not be myself. But for entirely different reasons. Anyvay, to be truthful, I deeply enjoy this part of your growing up. I, too, can test you and challenge you, but in THESE ways... in these little practical matters, not just hand you off to masters and trainers to prepare you to meet your adult duties.

"Bah! Enough of this! Do you want to tour the Snape quarters, or have you seen enough?" Pavel changed the subject with a brisk change of tone.

"I think the quarters are terrific, Papa. Do you have something else in mind to do? I'm game. I'm going to think more about ways to break in to John's tent, but not right now."

"Well, as it so happens, I do have something in mind. A bit depends on how cold you are yet, and perhaps how hungry?"

"I'm not that cold, and I'm not too hungry yet. We had a big breakfast at Hogwarts, and it's not yet lunchtime. What do you want to do?"

"I would like to introduce you to a new skill you will need eventually to master. Perhaps John can join us. I'm thinking of riding down into the Village, and perhaps we get some tea or luncheon?" Pavel asked.

"Super! What skill? You want to ski there? I think I may remember how..."

"No, my son. As they say, 'And now, for something completely different...'" _Pavel laughed as he tied Harry in and mind-spoke to John, "Ivan, are you free?"_

 _"I'm free, Papa, what's up?"_

 _"Care to join Harry and me at the Mews? I'm thinking of taking a ride together to the Boar's Tusk for a bit of lunch," he said, referring to his favorite village public house._

 _"Excellent, Papa. That would be perfect. I shall meet you there before you know it! I'll ask Misha to prepare my mount," John sounded delighted._

"Right. Harry, see that building over there? With the crested pennant waving on top of that spire, and that smaller blue pennant above the white? That's a silo, and beneath that is our Mews, our stable and livery. Inside there we keep horses, feed, sleighs, carriages, and tack. Do you see that clearly now? It's difficult to see with snow and sunlight."

"I see it, Papa," Harry nodded.

"All right. I'd like you to Blink from here, to outside the stables... this side. There's more than one building there, so just a simple Blink and wait for me, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir, that's clear."

"Very well, then. Go!" and Pavel let go his shoulder where he'd punctuated his instructions and directions with encouraging pats of the hand, and sent him off.

It had been a while since Harry had Blinked, and he was glad to see he could still do it smoothly. He landed just as he'd intended, and had just mentally affirmed that to Pavel when his father appeared right next to him.

"Well done, my son. Now, this could be a bit awkward, for someone is here I'd not expected, but it will be fine. I'm going to change our clothing, if you don't mind. When we go in, you will meet an old man for the first time. He is Horsemaster Wolodymyr Zankiw..." Pavel pronounced it "ZAN-kee"... "and you must not react, however he speaks to me. It may ruffle you a bit, but you say only one of four things... 'Yes, sir', 'No, sir', 'No excuse, sir', or 'I do not understand, sir'. Of course, if he asks a direct question that requires information, you answer it honestly and respectfully. Is that clear?"

Harry looked very very confused. "Papa?"

"I'm serious, Harry..." Pavel chuckled, shaking his head. "I can't explain everything now, but do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"Very well, then just follow my lead. Everything is fine, I assure you. I'm going to cast a language charm, so that we will all understand one another as though we speak perfect Ukrainian and they speak perfect English. But whatever happens, do not talk back, do not argue, just don't talk. We'll talk after we ride out, understood?"

"Yes, sir..." Harry complied, feeling both confused and anxious, as together they walked in through the darkened but open stable doors.

With a wave of his wand, Pavel had transformed their clothing from the Hogwarts garb in which they had arrived, to matching outfits of black trousers, black riding boots, white linen shirts with royal blue cravats, tight fitting waistcoats of black silk, and rich velour riding capes of deep royal blue with the family crest embroidered on the breast. As Harry stepped across the threshold from the brilliant snow covered sunshine, he was instantly blinded in the comparative darkness of the cavernous barn entrance to the stable. But what struck him most immediately was not the darkness, but the aroma. So rich and earthy, a heady mixture of horse, sweat, yes... some manure... but that was not predominant compared to a thick smell of alfalfa and grain, along with linament, a whiff of bleach, old leather and... something else... like, wax.

Together, Harry and Pavel stood still just within the doorway letting their eyes adjust to the change of light as they could see motion before them as stableboys... some girls... walked horses from one area to another, some under tack, others simply in halter on lead shanks, as the mounts were shifted from one stall to another while theirs were being cleaned. Harry started to draw breath to ask his father what was going on around them, only to have Pavel gently squeeze his shoulder and whisper... "Silence, Harry. Do not speak unless spoken to in here until you are given leave."

Harry nodded at the reminder, and stood still waiting until he could see clearly.

Gradually, he could see that they stood in a cavernous barn, with box stalls to their left and their right. In front of them was an open partition into a wide open space of soft brown loam. It was an indoor riding arena, with wide walkways surrounding the tubular metal boundary of the riding area, lined along the outside by the box stalls both closed and open. Some of the stalls had no front, just tack hanging from the walls on hooks or brackets. Some other open stalls were clearly for grooming or washing of the horses. Then there were the stalls that had doors that could close, open above chest high, bedded with sweet smelling straw, each with a bucket of fresh water hanging in one corner, and a net full of sweet hay with some alfalfa hanging from another.

The horses Harry could see were breathtaking. Some white, some gray dappled, others jet black. All had glorious manes and proud faces with upswept muzzles... these were princes, princesses, among horses. The manes alone... so long, luxuriant, just... breathtaking.

Suddenly a thickly accented voice broke the dark silence calling out loudly from their right, as Harry followed his father's lead assuming the position of rigid attention to hear, "Ach! I see the mighty lord of the manor has deigned to grace us with his presence this morning. Ladies and gentlemen, render honors to Lord Konstantyn and his companion!"

Instantly, all motion stopped as the eight or so horsemen, six with horse at the time, turned towards Pavel and Harry, clicked their heels together, and bowed deeply from the waist. Those with horse, cued the mounts to a bow as well, as each horse curled their right forehoof up from the ground, stretching out the left before them, to lower their chest by six to eight inches, as their muzzles descended to the soft loam surface below them.

Pavel then loudly clicked his heels together and executed a very brisk bow from the hip, rising to respond in his parade ground voice, "Thank you for your kind greetings, Horsemaster Zankiw and staff. It is a privilege to visit this morning and see such fine work in progress. Please carry on at will."

The Horsemaster barked, "Zo!" and everyone continued on about their tasks. Pavel and Harry continued to stand still and wait, as Horsemaster Zankiw approached with his slow but straight and steady gait. Harry was amazed to see Pavel simply stand straight at attention, looking straight forward, like a cadet awaiting inspection. Harry was extremely tempted to stand in a more relaxed manner and rubberneck, until a discreet nudge from his father warned him to smarten up his posture. In just a moment, the old man was upon them, looking them up and down every inch like an old cavalry sergeant inspecting his troops - which, indeed, he had once been, a lifetime or two ago.

"Vell," the grizzled horseman growled, looking like a common laborer in his barn boots, flannel shirt, quilted work overalls, carrying an almost straight birch rod under his arm like a swagger stick, "at least you remember how to dress properly for a gentleman entering his stable to ride. Do you remember how to RIDE properly, however? You neglect these horses abysmally! When did you last take any of them out? Eh?"

"Sir, I believe it was last summer, Horsemaster. Six or seven months ago," Pavel answered crisply.

"Zo, is THAT all they're worth to you now? A brief pleasure ride once or twice a year, like some city-living park-riding dilettante? Why not just give you equitation lessons, hmmm? Why bother to teach you to ride properly? Why go through all the trouble to give you an independent seat, or have you earn your spurs? What was the point of all that? Why did I have to put up with all that, eh?"

"Sir, no excuse, sir!" Pavel responded crisply, with a perfectly straight face.

"Hmmm," the old man with the grizzled gray hair poking up like silver needles through his scalp, matching his meticulously trimmed beard, seemed mollified for the moment. "You may stand at ease, then. And who... or what... is this wretched excuse for a boy? He's as scrawny as a monkey. Don't tell me he can ride..."

Pavel had relaxed from his brace when placed at his ease, and had seen the warm glint twinkle in the old Horsemaster's eyes, though he knew Harry had not yet seen that. He turned sidelong as Harry and the Horsemaster faced one another head on. Pavel couldn't help but feel Harry's mounting anger as Zankiw had castigated him like a firstie at Hogwarts. It warmed his heart to note that Harry wasn't nearly so incensed at being called scrawny or compared to a monkey, as he was for what had been said to Pavel.

"Horsemaster Zankiw, allow me to present Harry Potter, my apprentice, my adopted son, and heir presumptive. Harry is a second year wizarding student at Hogwarts where I teach, and... while he is brilliant riding brooms - which I know you despise - I do not believe he's ever been on a horse."

When Pavel concluded, Harry followed his instincts and sharply clicked his heels together, giving a crisp bow from the hip as he said, "It is an honor to meet you, Horsemaster Zankiw. I am privileged to be here." And then returned to a proper position of attention, straight faced, looking straight ahead.

Zankiw took a long, slow, look at Harry, and muttered, "My Lord, did you tell him to say or do that?"

Pavel couldn't help but smile with his pride as he said, "No, sir. I did not. That was all on his own."

"You are angry at me, boy. You don't like me much," the old soldier baited.

Harry stood still and silent.

Why are you angry, boy?" finally he asked a question.

"Sir, my father has treated you with respect, and yet you've spoken to him disrespectfully. That angers me. My father deserves respect, simply as a matter of manners, no matter who he is."

"And yet you said nothing, you just stood there. Why? Are you afraid, boy?"

"No, sir."

"Then why did you say nothing, when I insult your father?"

"Because he has told me to be silent unless spoken to and required to answer, sir."

"Thank you, young man, you too may stand at ease," and so saying, the Horsemaster backed away from Harry to turn smiling to his father. "My Lord! Welcome home!" he laughed. "You don't feed this lad nearly enough... second year? Zo... 12? Pfft! Light as a feather, we could make him a jockey. But he has a good heart, loyalty, self-control, cares more about you and your dignity than his own, and can overcome all that out of obedience. His greeting to me, in the presence of his anger, was…" He gave a tight-lipped smile. "...quite satisfactory."

Zankiw walked over to Pavel, taking up his right hand in both of his old knarled ones. Bending gently, he kissed the signet ring Pavel wore, saying... "I served your father before you, My Lord. I shall continue to serve you, and now your heir, by my life or my death, until the end. I am your man, and always will be."

Pavel had reached up with his free hand tenderly to caress the old man's temple and bring their foreheads together as he spoke, responding, "Beloved bondsman, know how deeply you are in my heart, as a father to me... as now I will entrust my son and heir to your care when his time comes. I pledge my life to your care, as will he when the time is right. You are one of very few I can come to and rely on as I can you. Never forget how I treasure you."

As the two of them released one another, the old man went to Harry to say, "Young man, I believe you will be a worthy son to our noble lord. When the time comes I will train you to manage a horse properly. A wise man once said, before a man can control his horse, he must first be sure he can control himself. THAT is the heart of what I will teach you... how to control yourself, and bond with your horse. For now, however..." he said, turning Harry's hands to look at the soft, pink skin of his palms, "I shall assume you know nothing. My young Lord Harry, welcome to a whole new life..."

Turning away, he barked commands at two of his grooms, and they began to brush off and tack two of the mounts. The first, named Ballios, was a striking white Lippezan stallion in his prime. He was Pavel's favorite here at the Chalet, and delighted to be let out for a romp on so clear and crisp a morning. The other was a young mare, well trained to bridle and saddle yet not fully matured to white nor at her full adult size.

Pavel cast an admiring eye over her and asked her name. "Lachesis," the groom told him, as bit and bridle slid smoothly into place. Pavel roared with laughter at that, thinking that nothing could be more fitting.

"Why, Papa? What does it mean?"

"Fate, my son. Lachesis is one of the three Fates of Greek mythology, the one who allots the length of string that determines one's life. I suspect she may be yours forever, but we shall see. In the meantime..."

"In the meantime, my lord," Zankiw interrupted, "let us see if you remember how to teach a young man to mount with a leg up. The stirrup is too high for him from the ground, and he's certainly too fit for a mounting block. So... And, by the way, Master Harry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"There's nothing wrong with never having mounted a horse when you arrive here. No one is hatched knowing how to ride, and I'd much rather get my hands on you before you have any bad habits to unlearn. So, I shall forgive your unfortunate history with brooms, if you will allow for some new experiences with a living breathing being between your legs. Understood?"

"Yes, sir, understood. Thank you," and Harry almost smiled as he thought he'd detected such a thing from the Horsemaster a moment ago.

Both the Horsemaster and Pavel had watched carefully as both horses were prepared. Pavel then walked Harry over to his mount and did two things. He had him walk to each stirrup, place the base of the iron in his armpit, and then lengthen - or in this case shorten - the stirrup straps to the length of his arm when his fingertips touched the support buckle. Then, most importantly, he had him test and tighten, cinch up, the girth. Pavel explained, "Nothing can ruin an otherwise pleasant ride faster than a loose girth getting wet or sweaty and letting the saddle roll around the horse's body like a greased barrel. Every experienced rider has seen it happen at one time or another. None want it to happen to THEM. You wait for the horse to exhale, like this…" he demonstrated, "then knee the girth gently, then cinch the strap tight, and you're good to go. Less than that, you hope for excellent balance and no sudden turns."

When it came time to mount, Horsemaster Zankiw stepped forward. "Master Harry, do you know how to perform a 'vault'? Where you put your hand on an obstacle like a pommel horse, or a fence, and hop over it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, you will 'vault' mount your horse eventually. For the moment, your father will give you a 'leg up', by supporting your left ankle and giving you some lift, while you raise your body with your hands and swing your leg across the saddle. First, let me demonstrate with His Grace," and he turned from Harry to Pavel, "Sire?"

This brought a hiss from Pavel, with an urgent whisper, "Please, old friend. Any chance you could just call me 'Professor' or 'Doctor Konstantyn'... or even 'Dunderhead' while I'm here?" he laughed.

"So now, after rightly accusing me of speaking to you disrespectfully, I should give your boy even more excuse? I am far too old and have worked far too long to get where I am, not to have the right to address my lord properly. If you have complaint, take it up with the Seneschal... but good luck with that, Your Grace. Now... if you please, your left ankle? Unless you plan to stand there with your hand full of mane and rein all day?"

Knowing when he was beaten, Pavel just bowed his head into the side of his saddle as he raised his left foot to his old teacher. Left hand, as was said, full of mane and rein, and right hand braced on the cantle of his flat tack, Pavel swung with a graceful vault smoothly into his saddle. Swinging back off in just as easy a motion, he went to stand by Harry's side to assist him to do the same.

"Once you mount, I shall remount, and together we will walk out the barn door there, and walk sedately down the path while you get a feel for this, all right?"

"Yes, Papa. By the way, where's John? I thought he was coming?" Harry said, as he gathered and placed his hands appropriately. Lifting his foot knee high, his father boosted him as he gave a jump to turn himself gracefully into and onto his saddle. Pavel carefully checked all his fittings and the stirrup length, approved of everything, and mounted as the grooms walked them to the stable doors.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your kind attention. We shall see you later on," Pavel declared as together they walked down the road, before he continued. "Yes, Ivan is intending to come. I'm only sorry he's been so delayed. I'd have given a great deal to see how that went. I didn't tell him that blue pennant was flying there."

"Blue pennant?" Harry twisted round to look up at it.

"Yes. We use flags here to declare presence. There's a banner that flies over the Chalet when I am here, and it comes down when I leave. The same with some other residences I have. Well, that blue pennant is for Horsemaster Zankiw. I'm only sorry you'll not get to see the two of them together, at least not this morning. It will surely come as no surprise that they do not get along quite so well as I suspect you will. Your response to that introduction has put you on his good side forever, you know. I was so impressed, and quite proud."

"Really?" Harry squeaked a bit. "Why, it wasn't that big a deal."

"One, very few people can even talk to him straight when he's doing that 'Drill Sergeant' thing. He's too intimidating. Two, you were very angry at him, and we could both feel it. Three, those were the perfect words of courtly courtesy. Four, you had the self control to say them and mean it. No simpering, no suck up, no gritted teeth. Just courtly manners, every bit worthy of my son and heir.

"So what goes on with him and John?" Harry returned to the point.

"Ha! Well, to put it simply, Ivan does not take naturally to discipline, and Master Zankiw is a bit insistent. I've never known Ivan to get away from him with less than three licks. Obedient, quiet, self-controlled... Ivan struggles with the three of those at once."

"Licks? You mean he would hit John?" Harry looked astonished. "What about all that... 'my lord' stuff?"

"My dear boy, did you imagine that stick he carries is cosmetic? And yes, his duty is to care for these horses, his horsemen, and for us as riders. He would strike Ivan, or you, or me... for that matter... if we behave unsafely or carelessly around those horses. Why? Because horses are dangerous and they don't care that something was 'an accident' or 'just kidding'. You cannot baffle or bluff them. You learn to do the right thing the right way, or you will hurt yourself or someone else. THAT is simply not acceptable to Horsemaster Zankiw. You will pay attention and perform correctly, or he will sting you... as many times as necessary to get it right. Better that, than a broken bone. Ivan used to find it a bit of a challenge to 'focus' over extended time. He got 'stung' quite a bit."

"So..." Harry said, speculatively, "sometime you're going to send me away to HIM for training?"

Pavel laughed, "Don't worry, it's not that bad. Some of your time in the summer, you will spend working with him each day to develop your skills, your balance, your independent seat. You will need to earn your spurs, and you cannot do that until you have perfect balance on your horse. Given your skills with a broom, honestly, I don't think it will take you too very long. It will depend on how long it takes for you to become 'one with your horse'."

"How do I do that, Papa?" Harry looked quizzically at the horse's poll bobbing up and down in front of him as they walked along the gentle downslope towards the Village just a little farther along.

"Here, Harry, let me bring you in to the experience for me on this horse... then see if you can fit into the experience space between yourself and yours." So saying, Pavel focused all his sensation and consciousness on his "Now", his immediate awareness of what he was feeling, both somatically and cognitively as he was in union with his horse. There was a vibrance, an ebb and flow, of life between the two of them... man and stallion... that implied instant responsiveness and availability of action if called upon.

Harry rested in his father's experience for a while, then withdrew to try to extend his senses that way for his own mount. In a little bit, he started to feel it... not quite a tingling, but more than a simple pulse. He could feel the energy flow along her muscles from hindquarters forward to shoulder. _"Strange," he thought. "I've always thought of a horse moving from front to back, but this feels backwards... like it's back to front."_

 _"Well done, Harry. That's an important lesson to know. All impulsion works from back to front in a horse. Even at a walk, you 'set the head', you help the horse look mighty, through impulsion from the back. Through 'collection'." Pavel had continued his thought._

"For now, though, we have arrived at the Boar's Tusk, so let us take our mounts here into the stable and see to their comfort, then we'll see to our own."

"Sounds good," Harry smiled as he hopped off from the left - correct - side, feeling only a little bit stiff here and there. As he copied Pavel and ran his stirrups up into their leathers so they didn't swing foolishly against their horses' flanks as they walked, John sauntered out of the pub, bearing a steaming mug of butterbear for Harry and mulled cider for Pavel.

"HA!" barked their father. "So where have YOU been, you truant? We got tired of waiting for you, so decided you could catch up when you got around to it!" and happily he took the warm tankards from Ivan's hands, handing his reins to the "truant" instead. "Hand him your horse, Harry! At least he can put them up properly, if he's not forgotten how!"

"Of course not, Papa. I started to meet you, then realized I was... erm... a bit fatigued, and didn't really want to ride down, so decided to blink here instead."

"Ivan, I believe you may have just lied to us. Tell me you didn't see that blue banner, THEN decide you were too tired to ride."

"Papa, there's nothing untrue about my fatigue. The fact that it became a concern only after I noticed Horsemaster Zankiw's presence is no reason to think I was any less fatigued, or have spoken an untruth," as he walked off to see to the horses' comfort.

Upon John's return, Pavel said, "I... see... Well, for now, let me just say how very happy I am to have you both here with me right now. Just a 'boys' morning out', eh? I am thankful for you both. Now, let's go see what they have good to eat?"

And so saying the three of them headed into the Pub arm in arm... Harry had never been happier in his entire life.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Thank you for your patience with my posting. Holidays/Family sorts of wonderful things. I think I'm back now. Reviews make my day! If you enjoy the stories, please let me know. :) Thanks so much! I appreciate the encouragement of the reviews, and the wonderful PM's you send from time to time! I'm so glad you like spending time with Pavel and family! Grace to you, Gentle Reader - Mort_


	18. The Boar's Tusk

**The Boar's Tusk**

John steered them towards a quiet corner booth he had commandeered for their meal when he'd arrived. It put Pavel's back in a corner where he could view the entire room as well as the entrance along with windows that showed the front of the rathskeller and outside approaches.

As he sat down, John said, "I've taken the liberty of ordering some dishes and have bought a round for the house." _Silently he mind-spoke to Pavel, "I've also asked everyone to address you as 'Professor' if they can manage it, saying we have a student visitor with us and we're trying to keep things a bit informal."_

The assembled company turned as they entered, expressing their greetings and thanks with upraised glasses, cups, tankards and cheery smiles with deferential nods.

"Well done, Ivan," Pavel said aloud, turning to address patrons before sitting down, he instantly had their silent attention as he smiled and raised his cup in salute saying, "It is good to see you all again, my friends. Thank you for your warm welcome. This coming week we shall be hosting some students and faculty from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I now teach. I hope we shall all enjoy this holiday time, as our children have the opportunity to spend time at home with family and friends," he concluded his remarks as he sat down.

Harry looked around the room without seeming to stare as they waited for their food. Like the Chalet itself, the tavern was a study in carved wood and joinery of different hues. Columns and buttresses supported the ceiling beams, punctuated by cubbyholes and alcoves filled with tankards, plaques, dolls, or even musical instruments of broad variety and coloration. Tables and chairs, broadboards and benches, even upholstered armchairs occupied different areas of the hall, accommodating different styles of conversation or companionship. At the far end of the room, a Dutch door separated the kitchens from the serving hall, and along one side wall a long bar lined with stools braced with a brass footrail housed the barman, a vast array of bottles and jugs filled with a myriad of different colored liquids, and a good collection of pull taps likely to dispense lager. While Harry had never been inside any pubs but for the Leaky Cauldron and the Three Broomsticks, he thought he recognized these features.

Unlike those other Pubs though, this one hosted a number of gaming tables... chess/checkers, skittles, a snooker or pool table, a tabletop that showed three hoops at either side with what seemed a quidditch pitch between, and at the far end of the bar stood two dart boards on the wall.

"So many games here?" Harry asked in a bit of amazement. "Is this a pub or an arcade?" he chuckled.

"Possibly a little of both, Harry," Pavel answered. "In the Spring and Summer, the village is a very busy place with farms, ranches, and forresters hard about their work. But when the snow settles in, there isn't much to do besides wait it out. People spend time at home, read a lot, travel if they can... and pass the time here socializing with one another. Some logging still goes on, but not at the pace of the warmer weather."

"I've never seen a Quidditch Table before. Are all these people magical, Papa?"

"Not all, Harry. But this entire Village is 'magic friendly'. That is, most families here have at least one magical member, but even if not, magic is an accepted part of life here. Our muggle community members enter into an agreement to protect the secrecy of magic if they travel beyond our borders. They take on a charm that prevents accidental disclosure outside," Pavel answered.

Dishes arrived from the kitchens, brought by a lovely lass and a busboy assistant who greeted them warmly. "Good afternoon, fine sirs. Here is your soup and bread, cheese, some salad, and do you need your drinks topped off?"

"I think we're fine on that, Sonia. So good to see you. How is your father doing? And I hope your mother is keeping well?" Pavel replied with a warm smile.

"Mother is just fine, thank you, sir. And Father is as cranky as ever, complaining that his cooking is running him off his feet, but refusing to let his undercooks do any more than hand him utensils or spices. That is to say, he's happy as a clam," she grinned.

"Wonderful! Well please extend my compliments to him, and we'll be enjoying all that he has prepared for us before we leave."

"Thank you, milord. Please just wave if you've need of anything. I'll not be far."

"Will do, Sonia. Good to see you..." John answered.

The next 20 minutes were spent enjoying the hearty soup with potato dumplings, crusty bread still warm from the oven, various fried and sliced snacks and meats, followed by fantastic roasted pork, potato latkes and pierogies. Harry recognized some of these foods from his last visit to the Chalet, but there were sausages and other items he'd not tried before. Pavel had again discretely mentioned that he would answer any food questions Harry had, but if he tried something he did not care for, just to try a bite and leave the rest off without comment. He was pleased to see, however, that of all the challenges he may face with Harry from time to time... "picky eater" was clearly not one of them. They boy ate with gusto and good will.

After taking the edge off their appetites, Harry's attention expanded to observing the other patrons and the games in play. In one corner, near the kitchen, there was a little raised platform where in the evenings musicians played. The patrons were all ages and apparent status. All were clean and neat, but some better dressed than others. Some were single men or men in groups, and there were some families with children there as well.

Meal finished, Harry asked if John could show him the Quidditch game, and how that table worked. He'd never seen that before. Pavel happily granted permission while he ordered a rich steamy coffee drink to top off their meal, as John and Harry excused themselves to go check out the amusement. The game was magically operated, as miniature players flew above the tabletop pitch, complete with bludgers and quaffle, while two seekers vied to capture a miniscule snitch. It was, by far, the most demanding magical game Harry had ever played... requiring not only great concentration, but the multitasking of compartmentalizing all the positions and objectives. John beat him handily, laughing that it was hardly a fair match considering the first time Harry had seen it.

Harry was just about to ask for another go, when he noticed a contingent of children more or less his age outside the Pub windows, trying to look inside without being too obvious about it.

"Methinks word of your presence has made the rounds, Little Brother," John laughed. "Let's head back to the table."

As they got back to Pavel, Harry asked, "May I go outside for a bit, Papa? And..." dropping his voice to a discrete whisper, "could we change these clothes into something a bit less... um... formal, sir?"

"I don't see why not, son," Pavel replied, and with a wave of his wand Harry's shirt, tie, and waistcoat transformed into a warm white thermal turtleneck sweater and black woolen jumper. The color scheme remained standard, but the garments more appropriate to recreational time. He had laid his riding cloak on the back of his chair during the meal, so picked it up to secure it around his throat as he thanked Pavel and headed outside.

"Enjoy yourself, son. And don't wander too far. We'll be leaving in a little bit," Pavel waved him out the door, as John walked towards the bar to order a tankard of ale and greet some friends he'd not seen much of since his youth.

Pavel watched carefully but discretely as Harry approached the cluster of youngsters he had observed looking into the tavern. The boy made friends easily enough, but beginnings were such delicate things. The children ranged in age from a couple years younger to a couple years older than Harry, but they seemed cordial enough... offering their hands readily for introductions. Pavel decided not to eavesdrop as he saw the locals pointing out some of the landmarks and sights of the village, and he gathered Harry had asked them to show him around a bit. Pavel approved... playing the tourist is generally a safe and diplomatic start for a newcomer, and returned to the enjoyment of his frothy caffeine.

Time went by companionably enough, the gaggle of youth had moved around behind the tavern's window views so Pavel had lost sight of them considerably before this, and John was just heading back to the table to see about when they planned to head back, when...

The two of them picked up the sound of youthful combat at a good distance from the Pub. No one else in the room would have heard the noises but those with "Konstantyn hearing", and probably a "teacher's ear" for such disruptive sounds as this. Quickly spreading his mental net over Harry, Pavel knew his young man had entered combat. In fact, there was clearly a "schoolyard scrap" going on. John immediately looked at Pavel with alarm and started to speak, cut off by the darkling expression on his father's face.

"No, son. I will take care of this. I'll be back in a moment. In the meantime, see to our bill and I'll return to take our leave... I think." And with that, Pavel Blinked instantly to Harry's side, finding himself ankle deep in mud and slush behind the Smokehouse, one of the outbuildings of the tavern. Harry and a village lad Pavel recognized as Stashu Zdniewsky were rolling at his feet trading fists as fast and furiously as they were able.

Pavel scooped them up, one in each hand, lifting them a foot off the ground as he grasped their clothing bunched between their shoulder blades, with a parade ground roar of... "WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON HERE?!" Even hefted up and separated as they were, it took a moment for their situation to dawn upon them as they continued with a swing or two before the shock took effect. Realizing they now dangled impotently in the grasp of the furious professor, silent stillness overtook them notwithstanding the appearance of their muddy clothes, one black eye apiece, and the bloody noses they sported. The gallery of spectator children who had surrounded and encouraged them had scurried away upon Pavel's arrival, like roaches with the lights turned on.

Firmly retaining his grasp, he marched his two suspended miscreants over to the paved flagstone walkway that served as the village sidewalk, and gently set them on their feet. "Attention!" he barked, as they both snapped to a brace, staring straight ahead, arms rigidly at their sides, fist-closed with thumb along the outer seam of their trousers. Such details were not lost on Pavel as he recalled Stashu to be a fourth year Durmstrang student, and John was quite martial in his enhanced combat training at Hogwarts.

"Well? I await an answer. Public brawling is NOT acceptable behavior in this village, nor for either of you! Mr. Zdniewsky, your name has crossed my desk a time or two. I grieved the loss of your parents last year, and your grandparents I consider to be good friends. I've half a mind to take you to be dealt with by your grandfather, but that I know it would bring shame to him and your family name. What have you to say for yourself, young man?"

"By your leave, sir..." Harry interrupted, still staring straight ahead. "This was my fault. Mr. Zdniewsky and I were comparing some lessons from our respective schools... and... I tried to demonstrate a martial arts technique... and... the snow and such, sir. It made me slip, and... er... we fell tumbling together as you saw... sir."

Pavel could feel the extreme relief and even... surprise... coming from young Stashu as Harry attempted this pitiful excuse for exculpation. "I... see..." Pavel replied, with excruciating slowness, considering his possible responses - none of which included the smile he felt forming at the back of his mind.

"Yes, sir," Harry's voice relaxed a degree in formality as he continued, "Truly, Papa... this was my fault, not his. Please don't get him in trouble."

At these words, Stashu's eyes went big and round as Pavel saw his pupils actually dilate. "Papa?" Stashu repeated as if to himself. "You mean, you're..." Stashu turned his head to stare at Harry and groan, "Oh, God..." He snapped back to attention saying, "Forgive me, Your Grace. I had no idea..."

Pavel could feel the truth of his words, which was a relief. Pavel did not want to think this altercation had resulted from either the village lad picking on Harry because of his status, or... even worse... that Harry had exploited his status in picking on a village lad. It seemed far more likely at the moment, that this had been a simple, if predictable case of interscholastic rivalry between this Durmstrang student at the Hogwarts "interloper".

"Well, gentlemen, I find myself hard pressed to consider your bloody noses and black eyes to be the simple mechanical results of a 'technique demonstration gone wrong'. Mr. Potter, do you teach physical education at your school?"

"No, sir..."

"Are you authorized to teach or even attempt new techniques, whether magical or physical combat, without competent adult supervision?"

"No, sir..."

"And you, Mr. Zdniewsky, are you permitted to spar or attempt new combat techniques outside of proper training venues or protocols... either at Durmstrang, or here in this village?"

"No, sir..."

"Then I believe we can settle this simply enough. I suggest that the two of you, together, engage in a bit of 'remedial physical education' focusing on cooperation, coordination, and adhering to adult instructions. Come with me, please, the both of you..." Pavel ordered, stepping off briskly assuming the boys would follow him towards the Livery Stable across the lane from the Pub. A quick wave of his hand cleaned all the mess and repaired any damage done to their clothing, so that they looked inspection-perfect by the time they entered the stables.

"Mr. Ivanenko? Are you free, sir?" Pavel called out into the stalls and central space of the barn.

Down a ladder from the loft came a nimble figure of a wiry middle-aged man, bits of straw and hay clinging to his sleeves and collar. "Yes! I'm here..." he began, a bit breathlessly, as he reached the bottom of the ladder and turned to the newcomers, "... My Lord," he concluded. "How may I serve you, Your Grace?"

"I have a pair of volunteers here for you, kind, sir. I can see that you seem run off your feet in this busy holiday time. These two young men..." Pavel stepped aside to reveal the two delinquents standing behind him at attention, "have expressed their need to be of some service. I would be grateful if you could use the next hour or so of their time in any tasks that exercise their need to cooperate, deal respectfully with one another, and perhaps work off some excess energy they seem to have for physical activity. It seems you were pitching hay down the feed chutes to your stalls? Are there bales in the loft above to be neatly stacked? And perhaps a stall or two, or three, in need of proper cleaning?"

"Always, Your Grace," the hostler replied with a knowing smile. "You know well, such work never ends properly to care for animals."

"Very well, then," Pavel looked at the boys. "Mr. Zdniewsky, does your family expect you home in the next hour?"

"No, sir," Stashu shook his head.

"Then gentlemen, you will work here... courteously... performing such chores as Mr. Ivanenko assigns you. You will perform them diligently and cordially. I shall return in one hour and relieve you, checking on your progress at that time. I trust that you will not disappoint me. After that, we shall consider your unauthorized sparring addressed. Is that all clear?"

"Yes, sir," the two voices echoed with nodding heads, as they watched Pavel stride away, back towards the Pub.

"Whew," Stashu breathed, relaxing when he could no longer hear Pavel's boot strides on the flagstones. "Why didn't you TELL me who you were!" he complained, turning to Harry.

"What difference did THAT make?" Harry replied, also melting and beginning to breathe normally again. "Come on, we've got work to do. He's not kidding about this hour. If we don't get good reports, this won't be the end of it!" Harry removed his cloak, stripping down to shirtsleeves and jumper, turning to and waiting for orders from Mr. Ivanenko. "How may we help, sir?"

"Let's hang your cloaks up over here out of the way," the stable master said, taking them to hang on a hook in a room, well apart from straw or sawdust. "So, let's go up to the hayloft." So saying, he climbed the ladder he'd just descended, as the boys followed him. With a wave of his hand, lighting glowed from the rafters illuminating a large central space of wooden plank flooring with one meter square openings spaced at 10 foot intervals all along the outer wall. Behind them, at the front of the loft, was an open double-door with boom hoist rigging, where dozens of bales of hay, straw, and alfalfa had been lifted up and loaded in. Stacks of bales stood between the openings, staggered all along that outside wall, and a great mess of random grasses were strewn all over the central floor.

"Boys?" Mr. Ivanenko began, "your timing could not be better. You will find tools, rakes and brooms, there in the rack at that corner," he said, indicating the front corner near the loft loading doors. "We've just received a shipment of fodder, and it needs to be stored properly. All along these walls are box stalls below us. Each of these hatchways open to a feeding chute, like a chimney, where flakes of hay or alfalfa can be dropped from here into a feed rack and manger for the stall below. Hay and alfalfa are fodder, straw is used for bedding. Look down the hatches, and see what I'm talking about with the stalls..." and he waited as the boys obeyed.

"Now, at those two stalls at the back, you see I've stacked 3 bales of hay, 1 bale of alfalfa, and 5 bales of straw in a way that makes all of it accessible and convenient when I'm tending livestock in those stalls. See that?"

The boys nodded.

"I would appreciate it then, if you would complete that process all the way up these walls. Use the same model, the same pattern for stacking the materials and clear away all this that we've just loaded in, distributing it properly along the walls for use. Once that is all stacked, making sure there is plenty of room to maneuver around the bales and get to whatever is needed for any stall, then this entire central area needs to be swept and cleared of loose grass. Otherwise we have a fire hazard. You will sweep the debris onto a tarp, then drop or carry the tarp below where we will bed a stall with it. Is all that understood?"

"Yes, sir..." the boys nodded.

"Fine. Stashu, take the east wall there and get started," he nodded to the village boy. Turning to Harry he asked, "what is your name, young sir?"

"I'm Harry, sir. Harry Potter."

"Ah, well, Mr. Potter, please begin at the back of the west wall. I shall stay here long enough to watch you prepare one stall each, to be sure you understand the task, and then I'll return downstairs to take care of some other things. Should you finish before I return, come find me downstairs. Right, proceed," he instructed, standing back to watch them work. Seeing each of them complete one correct stall, he took his leave and sank below stairs.

At first the boys worked in stoical silence. After a bit however, Harry figured out that the most efficient use of his time was to set the straw, which was furthest from the loft doors and most in their way, roughly into place to get the space clear. After that he would best distribute the alfalfa, then the hay. That would clear the central space so they could move around more conveniently.

While he didn't particularly LIKE Stashu, for obvious reasons, he figured he'd ask. "Hey, Stashu, how about if I bring these bales over for both of us, just to get them out of the way, while you keep placing yours? Then maybe when you finish, you can give me a hand, too?"

"Sure, why not, Brit? By the way, the stalls you've done look like a pig's dinner. Don't you guys ever have room inspections at Hogwarts? That's a mess, compared to the stalls Ivanenko did. Look at mine, then look at yours!" Stashu taunted.

Harry looked, and could see what he was talking about. Stashu's stacked bales looked like they'd been evened up with a ruler. The angles were all dead square. Each space looked absolutely identical to the one before, as if they were stamped out of a metal die. His own, on the other hand, were much messier and haphazard. "Um, no, Stashu. We don't have room inspections. I hadn't seen the difference before you pointed it out. You have dorm inspections?" Harry asked, quizzically.

"Of course. Every week. Losing divisions get extra chores, or detention, or other punishment depending on how out of order the barracks are. Attention to detail, Potter. Everything is attention to detail. Doesn't His Grace ever inspect your quarters?"

"Not really, no. I mean, sort of... That is, I have to have the room neat and orderly when I leave for the day. I mean, that's as far as my own room in his quarters. He doesn't ever come to my Dorm room. He's not part of my House. Some nights I stay 'at home' with him, or often on weekends if we're doing something. Other than that, I live in a tower of the Castle with my own house."

"Well, come on, Potter. We're more than halfway out of time, and we're not a quarter of the way done yet. Let's get a move on."

"OK. Hey, listen! What are the rules here about underage magic? Are we permitted?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's not encouraged, but this is a magical village, it's not like we have to worry about the whole 'muggle' thing. And NO ONE here can fight, or duel with magic without approval. Pulling your wand in anger can have disastrous consequences. Other than that... What do you have in mind?"

"I want to try something. I'm going to throw these bales to you. They'll be light, and you can position them. Then we'll go around together and square them up, and they'll go back to their proper weight. I THINK I know how to do this. I've been practicing a dueling technique that modifies weight. We won't use magic to DO the punishment. We'll do the punishment by hand. But we'll make it a little easier if the bales aren't so heavy. Then we'll quickly sweep the trash into a tarp, and float it neatly downstairs. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good if you can do it. If we get caught, do you think we'll get in trouble?"

Harry chuckled. "Maybe. But Papa often says, 'Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,' so I think I can talk us around even if we get caught. Still, up to you. I don't know how you'd get punished if you get in trouble. Your decision."

"Go for it, Potter. Let's place all the straw first... then the alfalfa... then the hay."

"Right. Here we go then... You catch." Harry's wand sprang to his hand as he cast a modified Wingardium Leviosa on the stacked bales of straw and began shoving them down the loft towards Stashu.

Stashu moved methodically up the wall from back to front, stacking 5 bales of straw neatly against each wall. He squared them up, making sure each was exactly two feet away from the hatchway down to the stall. Together, they repeated this process for the 3 bales of hay and 1 bale of alfalfa. When everything appeared perfectly aligned, both boys grabbed brooms from the tool rack and started sweeping from back to front, being certain not a single stray stalk of fodder or straw escaped their attentions. Harry returned all the bales to their proper mass as he swept around them, and before he knew it, the floor was absolutely perfect as Stashu spread a tarpaulin near the loft hoist and began to transfer the pile onto the canvas.

As they finished up, Stashu asked, "Potter? You've got a grand shiner there. Have I got a black eye, too? It feels a bit swollen."

"Yeah, you do. I'm sorry, mate. I guess I got a bit carried away," Harry shook his head regretfully.

"Oh, no problem. Wasn't your fault. I started it. The problem is just the black eye..." he chuckled, "evidence..."

"Whatcha mean? Papa won't tell on you. That's what we're doing here. He won't get you in trouble," Harry protested.

"He won't have to, Potter. When I get home with a black eye, my Grandfather will know I got in a fight. That sort of happens to me a lot. He's warned me not to let it happen this holiday."

"So, what will he do?" Harry asked, voice full of concern.

Stashu shrugged with a resigned sigh saying, "I'll get a hiding, and probably grounded at least for a few days."

"What if you told him I started it, that I was picking on you?" Harry suggested.

Laughing, he said, "One, you didn't. Two, I doubt he'd believe me. Three, when he found out who you were, I'd get it twice as bad for fighting with you because of your Pa. No, I'm better off just to take the licking without arguing."

"Hmmmm..." Harry pondered, sweeping the last bits of seed and straw fragments out the loft doors onto the snowy path beneath. Hearing a cleared baritone throat directly beneath him, he realized he'd just swept these dregs onto Pavel's head as he was entering the barn.

"Ack! Sorry, Papa. I didn't notice you there," Harry squeaked.

Stashu suppressed a laugh, as they watched Pavel try to brush the barbed seeds of hay and straw from his hair and shoulders.

"I would appreciate a bit more attention to detail, my son!" Pavel barked, again prompting a laugh from the boys that they tried mightily to suppress.

"Told you, Potter. 'Attention to detail' is everything!" Stashu teased.

"Thanks a lot!" Harry replied with a wry grin.

Pavel and Mr. Ivanenko climbed the ladder to join them at the front of the loft. He'd brought up their cloaks, and as he handed them to the boys he saw that everything was cleared away, stowed, and swept picture perfect. The boys were, rightly, rather proud of their accomplishment. Ivanenko looked around him in sheer astonishment.

"My lord... this is ... impossible! Three wagon loads of bales were here at the hoist. They've placed everything and cleaned this loft immaculately in just this hour. This would have taken me a full day to do. Thank you so much, Your Grace. Thank you boys. I don't know what you did to get here, though I can imagine..." he smiled, looking at their matching wounds... "but thank you for making such a serious effort. I am grateful."

Harry bowed, as he responded, "You're welcome Mr. Ivanenko. And thank you for such good care that you take of all this livestock."

Pavel nodded with approval at the apt remark. "Very well then, boys. Well done. Let us go, then..." and he started towards the ladder down.

"Papa, may I speak with you and Stashu a moment first?" Harry asked, smiling politely to excuse Ivanenko without offense.

"Certainly, my son," Pavel replied, seeing a confused look on Stashu's face. Pavel nodded his thanks and dismissal to Mr. Ivanenko as he descended the ladder to leave them in privacy.

"Papa, would you please heal Stashu's face before we leave? I know this is a magical village, so that would not be a problem. I would be very grateful."

Pavel considered this request, realizing there was a very real teaching opportunity here. Thoughfully, he replied, "Why do you ask this, my son?"

"Because I know our working here was to teach us not to fight in the streets, and we've learned that lesson. Our punishment should end here. But, if Stashu goes home with that black eye, his grandfather will beat him, regardless of our doing this. It wouldn't be fair, sir. I know my punishment is finished, but he'll still take a hiding. Please heal his face, sir."

"I see. Stashu? Is that so?" Pavel asked.

"Yes, sir. My Didus has warned me to stay out of trouble this holiday, and not to fight. As soon as I walk in, he will know I disobeyed, and this punishment will make no difference. I'll be sent straight to the barn to wait for him."

"I see. Do I take it that fighting is something you often get in trouble for? And your grandfather is trying to break you of the habit?"

"Yes, sir. I suppose so," Stashu looked at his toes.

"Harry, you know I do not generally like to interfere with families and how they discipline their children. This whipping would not just be a matter of your fight today, but of a pattern of behavior Mr. Zdniewsky is prone to. I am loath to interfere."

"Please, Papa," Harry interceded, "Stashu's a good bloke, and this was my fault as much as his. I started this, he didn't. So it's not fair for him to get punished if I don't."

Pavel stood silent for a long moment, before asking in a low voice, "In that case, Harry, are you saying that this fight was your fault, not his?"

"Yes, sir," and Harry raised his hand to Stashu as he tried to interrupt.

"Mr. Zdniewsky, with what does your grandfather chastise you?"

Stashu looked up, almost chuckling at the obviousness of the answer, "With his belt, sir. A strap."

"Of course," Pavel nodded. "And how many lashes would you likely receive?"

"My age, sir. Fourteen, usually. Unless something was particularly wrong, mean, damaging or destructive."

Pavel nodded. "And generally he takes you to the barn. So, there's privacy. Are you strapped with, or without benefit?"

They all knew Pavel was referring to trousers and pants. "Generally, without, sir," Stashu said very quietly, blushing just a bit. "And sir?" Stashu continued, waiting for Pavel's nod of permission to continue... "It was I who started this fight, not Harry. I was insulting to Hogwarts, and he tried to ignore me. But then, not knowing your connection..." his voice dropped very low... "I was insulting to you, sir. And he punched me in the nose. From there it was... well, you know."

"Aha," Pavel had to smile just a little bit. "Well thank you for telling me that. And just so you know, young sir, I am accustomed to the criticism of children... even my own sons... so I take no offense at whatever remarks you may have made. However, I am now in a bit of a quandary. You have both told me you started and are responsible for the fight. You, Mr. Zdniewsky are due a good hiding from your grandfather for disobedience, from which my son would spare you. Very well. Question, my son: If I heal Mr. Zdniewsky's face so that he is spared his due punishment, would you be willing to take it in his place?"

This unexpected question gave Harry real pause. He knew Papa wasn't kidding, that he'd seen him take other's punishment before. Fourteen licks, with a belt, on bare backside? Harry didn't want to see that happen to Stashu... he'd turned out to be a pretty good bloke. But he REALLY didn't want to see it happen to himself, either. Still, Papa's question required an answer. And he knew he'd lied to Papa anyway... at least twice. He'd earned the strap anyhow. He decided to trust Pavel.

"Yes, sir. Not that I'd WANT to. But, yes, I'd deserve it. I threw the first punch, and Stashu shouldn't be hided for that. And I lied to you, sir. And I know the penalty for that."

"Very well, then, Harry. I shall heal Stashu and he may go his way. You and I will head home, have a little chat in my study, and then we will conclude our business in the Woodshed. Stashu, come over here and look up please. Have I permission to touch your face to heal your wounds?"

"No, sir!" Stashu stamped a foot. "This is NOT acceptable, sir. I started the fight by being a lout! He may have thrown the first punch, but I goaded him into it with fighting words. I'll not allow him to take my just punishment. I'm not a coward. Potter, you are NOT to do this. If you do, I swear I'll just go home and confess to my grandfather anyway, and take the whipping. So your gesture would be wasted. Your Grace, I'd sooner take my own licks, by your leave. I'd as soon meet your belt as my Didus'. Please, sir, don't whip Harry for my misbehavior! Here! Have at it, sir..." and so saying, he walked to a pair of stacked bales, planted his hands and feet, assuming the position of correction. "Please, sir, I shall take my own lashes."

"Well, Harry..." Pavel began, smiling slightly. "We seem to have a problem here. Justice, fairness, honor... What is the resolution? The two of you seem to have bonded a friendship here, each seeking to sacrifice for the other. What is the fair thing here? What would you do, or have me do? What seems 'right' to you?"

"I presume your simply healing Stashu's face, and nothing more, is out of the question?" Harry suggested.

"It is. Stashu has admitted that he disobeyed his grandfather. That cannot be ignored. If I do not address that, I leave it to his grandfather to do so."

"Well, Father," using so formal an epithet for the first time ever, "since he will not permit me to stand in his place alone, perhaps as we have both claimed responsibility, and we've both been unruly, we should simply face you for the same penalty, whatever you deem fair."

"What would you think of that, Mr. Zdniewsky? Do you accept my authority to discipline you in your grandfather's stead? If the two of you suffer the same punishment, would you permit me to heal you without disclosing these matters to your grandfather?"

"I would, sir," Stashu nodded.

"And you refuse simply to accept healing and go your way without punishment, if Harry were disciplined in your place?"

"Absolutely. Where would the honor be in that? No, sir... no way," he responded in an affronted tone.

"Very well then. Boys..." as Pavel shifted into his 'Judge's voice' as Harry thought of it, _"Stashu Zdniewsky and Harry Potter, you have together claimed equal responsibility for the misdemeanor of street brawling in our village. That puts you, Mr. Zdniewsky, in disobedience to your grandfather, for which you would ordinarily suffer the penalty of fourteen stripes with his belt, without benefit of clothing. My penalty will be less. You, Mr. Potter, struck the first blow in this fight, and have asked to suffer punishment in place of Mr. Zdniewsky, or at least equal to it. Do I correctly understand that both of you ask me to discipline you for your behaviors in these circumstances?"_

"Yes, sir," they both nodded, as they stood at attention.

"Very well, follow me," Pavel nodded, as he marched to the far back wall of the Loft, as far as possible from the hoist doors and ladder down. Using his wand, he levitated two large alfalfa bales down into the center of the space, forming a flat rectangular surface about four feet high. He removed his cape, draping it over the bales, evening out the surface more.

"Harry, remove your cloak and drape it over that bale there," Pavel said, indicating a nearby hay bale. Harry obeyed, whereupon Pavel removed his waistcoat, cufflinks, wristsheath, and wand, placing them all gently down on the surface of Harry's cloak. "Right. Now, boys? I do not believe in humiliation. Therefore, you will keep all your clothing on in this thrashing. However, I am going to change its nature, such that you will not experience its presence. I feel to do otherwise, Stashu, would not be to honor your grandfather. Harry, please stand at attention right here," he said, indicating a spot near Harry's cloak. "You will watch as punishment is administered, reminding yourself that your own misbehavior contributed to Mr. Zdniewsky's thrashing. Mr. Zdniewsky, please place your elbows down on my cloak here, and assume the position at these bales. I am not erecting a silencing shield, so if you do not wish to arouse attention or curiosity of passers by, I suggest you not cry out in distress."

Leaning on his elbows meant that Stashu bent over at an angle far more severe than he'd originally intended, making his backside considerably more vulnerable. While he appreciated wearing all his clothes, he felt the change as Pavel cast his transformational charm that rendered his clothing "merely cosmetic". He knew, by the cool air disturbingly present, that the coming blows would now be experienced with the same distinct clarity as those delivered by his grandfather in their barn.

"Ready, Mr. Zdniewsky?" Pavel stood in position to Stashu's left, doubled belt dangling from his hand.

"Yes, Your Grace," Stashu replied.

"You will count, after each stroke."

"Yes, sir..."

"THWAP!" came the unmistakeable sound of leather hitting flesh, as Stashu shuddered with the impact and hissed with a long intake of breath. He did not cry out, however. And Pavel waited patiently until he recovered himself enough to croak, "One... sir."

"THWAP!" as again, Pavel's arm drew back from the shoulder, but only ninety degrees, with a very no-nonsense lick quite assured of making an impression, without leaving a brutal mark or any chance of injury. Harry winced sympathetically as Stashu's face evidenced his pain, while still he did not cry out. He did, however, rise up from his elbows to his hands as his back arched with the force of the blow. Pavel gave him a moment to return to his position before prompting, "Down... elbows... Mr. Zdniewsky."

"Sorry, sir. Two, sir..."

"Why are you being thrashed, Mr. Zdniewsky?" Pavel asked.

"For brawling in the street, sir." Stashu answered.

"That is almost correct. It's true, you goaded that to happen, but someone else threw the first punch, and he will be dealt with momentarily. I am not thrashing you for that, Mr. Zdniewsky. You have completed your punishment here at the stable. Zo... why are you being hided?"

"I don't know, sir. Because I asked to be?" Stashu seemed truly confused.

"No, Mr. Zdniewsky. You are being hided because of disrespect and disobedience to your grandfather. He is a good friend. You owe him your respect and obedience, and to get into trouble as often as I know you do... does him no honor. He loves you, you know. Your grandparents miss your parents as much as you do. Why add to their grief by adding to their worries... about you?" Pavel voice had taken on that quiet... "come let us reason together" tone that Harry hated to hear with he was in trouble in a "little chat". Harry could see that the mention of Stashu's parents had prompted his eyes to mist over.

"Prepare yourself, young sir," Pavel said, as Stashu braced himself. "THWAP!" came the hardest lick yet. Pavel stood still, belt dangling from his arm limp at his side, while the boy broke down and bawled silently. His shoulders shook as he buried his face in his arms to cry. Harry wondered if those were tears of pain, or of anger, or of grief... or all three. He knew what it was to lose one's parents, and rail against the universe in rage at the unfairness of it all. He wanted to go to him, tell him it would all be all right. But that couldn't happen, of course. Not right now, anyway.

In a moment, Stashu regained some composure, snuffed up a mighty sniffle, and said, "Three, sir..."

"And that will do, young sir. Rise when you can," and Pavel waved his hand at Stashu's back, restoring all clothing to its accustomed state. Rather than rising, Stashu just rested a while, lying on the bales... until Pavel put down his belt there on the cloak and reached out to the boy. Hungrily, the youngster moved into Pavel's arms, crying without shame into the older man's shirt. "I know, boy, I know. It's hard when you lose your world... I've been there. But your grandparents love you, and you and your family have friends here, the village, Durmstrang... even, now, Harry and us. Take this time with your family, talk to your grandparents. Talk to your Didus... you need to spend time with him... hunting, fishing, building something. You need his gentle voice and his warm touch, more than his belt. But... when you misbehave... he loves you enough to wear out his belt on your backside, even though it breaks his heart. Tonight, when you go home, tell him you want to make a fresh start, and DO THAT! Don't be such a tough, looking to start fights with your juniors... eh?" Pavel chuckled, looking the boy in the eye, as he drew his hand along the side of his face... golden glow healing all his facial injuries, then clapping the boy on the back. "You hear me?"

"I do, Your Grace. I'm so sorry. I'll... I'll talk with them tonight, and I'll try and do much better... and... OWWWww!" Stashu laughed, rubbing intently on his hintermost. "That really HURT!"

"Indeed," Pavel nodded. "Now, Stashu, you exchange places with our Mr. Potter. Stand at attention right there. Harry, assume the position, on your elbows, and put in your mouthpiece." Pavel curled his belt once around his fist, shortening the leather loop by a good eight inches. He knew this would reduce the severity of the impact considerably, accounting for the age and size difference of the two malefactors.

"SIR!" Stashu cried out, "This isn't necessary! Please don't thrash him, it really WAS my fault!"

As Harry assumed his position, he looked up at Stashu and shook his head. Pavel decided to let him speak. "Do you want to answer your friend, Harry?"

Harry stood up and nodded. "Stashu, we've made a pact to take the same punishment. I even volunteered to take your punishment in your place. That would have been 14 licks, on the bare. I know this is going to hurt, but I know exactly what's going to happen. I don't know for sure yet what it will feel like, since I've never been spanked on the bare before, but before Papa adopted me, I've been hit by a doubled belt loads of times," he even chuckled a bit as he said, "Of course, I was always a moving target until I was cornered, then I just curled up in a ball and took it til I passed out. Is this going to hurt? Oh yeah. But I've earned it, throwing the first punch. I knew better than that. And I knew what I was saying when I offered to take your beating. Papa isn't cruel, and he won't hurt me more than I deserve. So... let's just get this over with, ok?"

Stashu didn't look all that convinced, but Pavel was exceedingly proud of Harry in that moment. He watched Harry put his mouthpiece back in, put his elbows on the cloak, and nod his head that he was ready.

"Son? You're going to want to throw your hands back. You're also going to want to scream. You can overcome both of those instincts with your will if you focus. Your breath will want to cry out, but just exhale without letting it flow through your vocal cords, and there will be no scream. See what you can do. You will count." Pavel's hand glowed over Harry's waist, as his clothing also was rendered cosmetic and, in current circumstances, irrelevant.

Harry looked forward and nodded, blanching a bit as he, too, felt the cold air breezing through the loft reach his fundament without restraint.

"THWAP!" as again the clear report of leather striking bare flesh was effectively smothered among the stacks of haybales that surrounded them. But Harry's body went utterly rigid as the silent scream hissed through his mouthpiece and his fingers curled deeply into the hay supporting him. Pavel waited patiently.

"One, sir..." Harry's tearful voice whispered.

"THWAP!" came the second lash, again drawing sharp breath from Harry, but no sound as his head collapsed onto his arms and his shoulders shook with silent tears. Pavel's heart went out to the boy, but Harry needed to understand the potential consequences of making a commitment to take another's place. Especially when that involves as serious a thrashing as Stashu would have known at the hands of his grandfather.

"Two, sir..." Harry said, nodding his readiness.

"THWAP!" came the last and hardest lick. Harry went up on his toes, again keeping his hands where they belonged, and again inhaling then exhaling with a long drawn out, but silent, wail. He cried against the bales for a long time, before starting to rise.

"Harry?" Pavel prompted.

"Three, sir..." Harry recovered.

"You may rise when ready," Pavel instructed, placing his glowing hand at Harry's waist, restoring the accustomed nature of his clothing.

"Oh, sir... could you just leave that for a few minutes more? The cold air... it's so nice!"

"No, my son. That's not what that charm is for. However, let me inform you both, there is no visible sign to your punishment. Stashu, if you can keep from wincing or hissing, your family need not know you've been thrashed. You should be fine by morning, but I'm sure you'll feel that for the rest of the night.

"Oh, Your Grace... those were love taps compared to what I'd get at home. Though I have to admit, you've clearly done that before."

"Indeed, young man. Remind me if we get the chance this week, to introduce you to my son Ivan. I've worn out more than one belt on his backside over the years, no fear."

In the meantime, while this banter was going on, Harry had slowly stood upright, and was now occupied assiduously trying to rub the sting and burn out of his rear end. Pavel walked over to replace his wand, sheath, cufflinks, waistcoat, and eventually back for his cloak. He lifted Harry's cloak for him, and held it as Harry tied the fasteners back on.

Pavel led the way down the ladder, and took his leave of Stashu at the bottom. Mr. Ivanenko brought over their mounts as Harry looked at Lachesis in sheer horror.

 _"Papa! I can't! There's no WAY I can ride right now!" Harry mind-spoke to Pavel._

 _"Because?" Pavel replied._

 _"Because there's no way I could even sit down on a hay bale or a chair right now. No WAY I could ride a horse! It would be like taking that strap all over again! Please, Papa!"_

 _"I'll show you a trick for that, Harry. But believe me when I say, when you ride OUT on one of Horsemaster Zankiw's mounts, you assuredly ride BACK with that mount... or you'd best be in a hospital. Were you to fail to return Lachesis in good condition, the licking you would take from him would make your recent swats look like encouraging pats on the rump. Now, let me show you..."_

Pavel walked over to Lachesis, lowered her stirrup irons, and unbuckled then refastened the stirrup straps shortening them by six inches each. This way, Harry's feet would not rest in the irons at the full length of his leg, but rather each leg would be foreshortened by six inches. This would allow his knees to meet at the front of his saddle, and he could lean forward on them in a "crouched" position. This was the posture most often used by jockeys in a race, but it had the side benefit of keeping the seat and upper thigh off the horse and saddle. This "leaning forward on the knees and upper leg" was also often used for the trotting gait.

Pavel mounted Lachesis for a moment to demonstrate the riding posture, then dismounted to give Harry his leg up. "Go on, Harry. You'll only need to sit the saddle for a few moments as you get your feet and legs in position. Then lean forward and you need have no more seat contact with the saddle."

Pavel paid for their livery stay as he again accepted the hostler's thanks for the boys' help up in the loft. Together, he and Harry walked out and headed down the path towards their Mews, taking it slow and easy for the sake of Harry's sore end. The boy alternated between holding his weight off the saddle for a while, then needing a break and sitting back down. He'd hiss with initial contact, but then get some slight relief as the freezing cold leather of the saddle seat provided some comfort to the blazing burn of his backside.

Arriving at the Stables, grooms met them at the door. Both of them kicked free of the irons leaning over the saddle, then hopped lightly to the ground to hand over their horses. Harry moved a bit stiffly as they walked towards the exit, and the Horsemaster's voice caught up with them.

"Your Grace, has our young scion been rendered sore from so short a ride, or has he been subject to some attitude adjustment?"

"The latter, kind sir. The horses were a delight, and couldn't have been gentler with us." Pavel answered, smiling.

"I see. Unfortunate, that, so early in your visit. Did his correction have anything to do with mistreatment of these horses?"

"Assuredly not, Horsemaster. Else I'd turn him over to you for further education. No, no, he just had a bit of a run in with one of the village lads."

"Ah, yes. Well, school rivalries make for such things, do they not, Your Grace?" Zankiw laughed, remembering Ivan and his many scrapes over just this issue.

"Indeed, sir. Well, thank you for your kind attention. We shall take our leave," Pavel called cheerily, as he backed away from the barn, Harry trailing in his wake.

Once Horsemaster Zankiw returned to the stable, Pavel stopped and turned to face Harry.

"You and I still have some unfinished business, young man." he said, in a serious tone.

Harry was confused. "We do? What's that?" he asked, as after a quick look about to see that no one could observe them, he was again rubbing his seat pockets to ease the ache.

"We are going to blink home, and you will change into play clothes. You will then meet me in my Study, and we will have a little chat about your lying to me three times today. I've said nothing about it up to now, as this is a home and family matter. But now we're home. So... your room, change, then my study, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, miserably. "Understood."

Harry sincerely hoped John wasn't busy, and that he was available at home.

And together, he and Papa blinked home to their rooms at the Chalet.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Reviews are terrific to receive. If you enjoy these stories, please take a moment and comment. Critique also welcome. Grace to you - Mort_


	19. The Woodshed

**The Woodshed**

Harry stood miserably in his bedroom as tears threatened his eyelashes. Opening his dresser drawers, he selected his thickest and toughest pair of jeans, a fresh dry pair of socks, and his thickest pair of cotton underpants.

 _"John?" he mind spoke. "You out there, have you got a minute or two?"_

 _"Sure thing, Little Brother. Want me to come in?" he answered, knowing Harry was in his room._

 _"Yeah, wouldja please?"_

 _"Sure thing, be right there," John replied, getting up from the kitchen table where he'd been writing some American recipes out for the house elves._

He manually walked up the spiral staircase nearest Harry's room so his footsteps would be heard, then gently knocked on his closed bedroom door.

"Come in," Harry said, relieved to see that it was John, not Papa, who slowly opened the door.

John's mage sight clearly showed the glowing radiance of Harry's well-tanned backside as he'd finished changing into his thickest pants and jeans. He'd almost decided to wait for John's help when he tried to take off his full height riding boots without having to sit down. It was almost impossible, but he was still way too sore to sit down unnecessarily, even on his soft bed. Finally he'd managed to pull them off, and put on his high-top trainers instead.

"What's up, Squirt?" John sat down at Harry's desk greeting him with a cheery tone. "I see you got waled pretty good. What happened? I don't think Papa was planning on that when he went out to bring you home. Did your mouth write a check your bum had to pay on?"

Harry laughed, "Sort of, but probably not the way you mean. I didn't backtalk or speak out of turn. Here, easier just to show you what happened..." and Harry replayed the memory of the whole event for John to experience.

"Ah, I see..." John nodded sympathetically. "So what's the problem? You've probably made a friend for life right there. Regretting your decision?"

"No, not really. But NOW I've got to go face Papa in the study about lying to him. And I know it's non-negotiable, and he's already said we're heading to the Woodshed afterwards..." a lump forming in Harry's throat stopped him from speaking. "It just... doesn't seem _fair_ somehow."

"OK," John said calmly, just sitting still to listen.

"WELL?" Harry barked, in a bit of a demanding tone...

"'Well' what? Is there a question there? I don't know what you want me to say," John replied with an even tone and a slight smile.

"I want to know what you think! I feel like this is unfair, and I don't like it! I don't want to go downstairs. I don't want a 'little chat' in the Study. And I CERTAINLY don't want to head to the Woodshed with Papa!"

"Harry, I hear you. I understand you. I can even agree and sympathize with everything you're feeling. But you don't really want to know what I'm thinking or would have to say. It would just make you mad," John chuckled.

"I DO want to know..."

"No, you don't..."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I DO SO, DAMMIT!" Harry shouted at him.

At which point, Harry's bedroom door swung suddenly open and there stood Papa, clearly incensed at Harry's language. "Young man? Did I not instruct you to change your clothes, then report to me in my Study? I am not accustomed to dawdling, nor being disobeyed. Your situation is DEFINITELY not improved with bad language!"

Harry mumbled, "Sorry, sir..." and started to shuffle towards the door to the Study.

"Papa?" John asked, "Would you be willing to give Harry and me just a few minutes together first? He'll be there soon, I'd just like to have a few words with him before you talk. Please?"

Knowing how well the two boys communicate, and sensing Harry's current dismay, Pavel agreed to the delay. In fact, since he'd just become even more irritated at the situation, it would give him a little time to calm himself before dealing with Harry. "Very well, then Ivan. But I want to see you, Harry, in my Study in fifteen minutes, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Clear," Harry looked up at him and said in an acceptably solid and respectful voice.

With that Pavel spun on his heel and headed back down the stairs.

"All right, then, Harry," John began, "I've warned you that you won't like what I have to say, but it seems you need to hear it anyway. You want me to speak truth, right?"

"Of course," Harry nodded.

"Well the truth is, I am really really happy for you right now..."

"Huh?" Harry shook his head rapidly, as if to clear cobwebs, in utter confusion. "How do you figure?"

"Harry, since you got with us, all you've ever wanted was to be a 'normal boy', right? For all the drama and politics, all the danger and destiny stuff, to back off so you could just worry about the stuff any boy your age should be worrying about, right? Papa once put it that... you should be 'worrying about nothing more serious than cutting school to go fishing, and not getting caught and punished for that.'

"But because of a lot of circumstances of life, we all need to keep one eye open for the 'big drama' stuff, even though we try to live in the 'normal boy who lives' world day to day. Right?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Well, Harry, today you have managed to attain absolute normality, and I'm delighted to see it. You're standing there with a throbbing backside having taken three licks for fistfighting in the street with another kid. You say your situation seems unfair to you. Well, have you EVER known Papa to be 'unfair' before?"

"No," Harry mumbled, "not really..."

"He pulls the two of you apart with black eyes and bloody noses, still swinging, and... if I've got this right, the only punishment you were assigned was an hour straightening things up at the Livery Stable?"

"Well, yeah..."

"OK, and that would have been IT, right?" John paused as Harry nodded. "But you asked Papa to heal Stashu so that he didn't get belted by his Grandpa, right? A punishment Stash had been warned about if he got caught fighting again. And he DID fight again, and started the fight... notwithstanding your first punch, you understand goading, eh?"

"Yes..." Harry looked down.

"Right, so Papa gives you a challenge, to heal Stashu if you would stand in his place. And Stash, much to his credit, refuses... insisting on taking his own licks. Between you then, you ASK PAPA to hold you both equally accountable and apply the same penalty. Has Papa been 'unfair' anywhere so far?"

"No, not really... I guess..."

"OK, now I know Stashu's Grandpa and he's a tough old bird. Fourteen licks, bare butt, and they'd be delivered full force, believe me... was more than Papa would permit you to take. But the two of you bound him to 'equal' punishment. Papa gave Stashu the absolute minimum that the boy could even interpret as a meaningful 'gesture of displeasure', compared to his own family. And you stepped up for the same penalty. Anything unfair here, yet?"

"No..."

"Right. Now Papa's already told the two of you, you'll feel that for tonight, but there's no marking and tomorrow you'll feel fine. Now, I don't know about you, but I'd consider that pretty gentle for being caught brawling on a public street. What do you think?"

"We weren't on the public street. We were behind the Smokehouse. Papa carried us back to the public street..."

"Harry!... Anyway, you admitted, EVEN TO PAPA, that you'd lied through this, and that you knew what that would mean. Since that's family business, not Stashu's, Papa never addressed anything at all about lying until you were finished with everything and alone with him.

"So, let me sum this up. I see my Little Brother with a sore backside from public brawling, then ASKING to take licks to get his new friend healed up, so that HE didn't get a licking when he got home from disobedience. You don't like the feeling of your backside hurting, and you're not used to it. But what's making you all whiny, is going downstairs to face the music for lying... which you knowingly did and admitted to. Your bottom already hurts, and you know that taking the strap in the Woodshed on top of that is REALLY going to hurt. And you don't want to do it. And you're asking me if there's a way out of it, or if Papa's being unfair about it."

"Ok, then, back to you on this... do you see ANYTHING... even REMOTELY... unfair about your situation?" John stood, smiling, with his arms crossed.

"No, I guess not. Not really," Harry had to admit.

"Simple question then, did you lie to Papa?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you know the rules and consequence when you did it? Or were you 'adrenaline pushed'?"

"No, John. I knew better," Harry admitted.

"Then all I can suggest, Little Brother, is that you never again break a Cardinal rule when you're already negotiating for, or have earned, a spanking. The Woodshed is seldom a desirable follow up to an already sore bum. Believe me, I know that well from experience. I also suggest that you not enter Papa's Study with a chip on your shoulder and an attitude of 'this isn't FAIR!' A sullen attitude will not work to your advantage in the Woodshed. Besides, talking these things out is what a 'little chat' is really for. Wait and see how things go, ok?"

"All right. But... I'm still not happy!" Harry chuckled.

"I know, Squirt. And that's what's making ME so happy. That's exactly what a 'normal little boy' should be feeling right now. Congratulations, Harry... at this precise moment, you're just 'Harry, my kid brother'... nothing more, nothing less."

Harry reflected on that a moment before he started to smile, seeing what John was talking about. "Yeah, you're right. That is kind of neat. Thanks John!"

"Go get'im, Tiger. Just watch your mouth and your tone. You'll live through this, I promise."

"OK," Harry nodded, as he bounced down the stairs with his normal happy-ish gait. Finding the Study door closed, Harry knocked politely, three times.

"Come in, Harry," Pavel answered, seated behind his desk.

Harry strode in confidently to the front of the desk, stood at attention, and said, "Reporting as ordered, sir."

Pavel could feel the attitude change from his visit upstairs. He smiled as he said, "Sit down, Harry."

"Please, sir, if it's all the same with you, I'd rather sta..."

"I'm fully aware of that, Harry. I don't recall asking your preference. Now SIT!"

"Yes, sir," he answered, as with the slightest hiss he gingerly seated himself in a side chair with far too little - in his opinion - upholstery.

Pavel began, "You confessed lying twice to me, as we began to speak with Stashu. After that, you lied to me again. Now, I want to explain something. 'Lying', whether by commission - words you say - or by omission - words you fail to say - requires a sincere intent to deceive or mislead. That's the difference between a 'lie' and a 'joke'. Both may use false words, but the one is intended to be believed, where the other is not. Your confession to me was 'honest' in your judgment, but was actually inaccurate. What were the two lies you were referring to when you confessed?"

"Telling you we weren't fighting, but that I'd been demonstrating a technique. And then later when I claimed I'd started the fight."

"Correct. Now... in my judgment, neither of those were actual lies. The second statement was made with the awareness that you had thrown the first punch. I could accept that, therefore, as 'truth'. You can truthfully claim responsibility for starting a fight, when you know you threw the first punch. I do not count that against you."

Harry nodded. He could see the fairness of that. "But the first, sir? That was just totally untrue..."

"It was. But it was also utterly ridiculous, and you knew that. And you knew I would know that. I've been a teacher far too long, trained far too many hooligans, and broken up far too many fights for you to have any expectation whatever that I would believe so silly a fairy tale. Did you think there was any chance that I would credit such a story?"

"No, sir, not at all. I hoped you would see that I was just trying to 'save face' for Stashu and keep him from getting in trouble. I think it was what we would call a 'political lie'... words I was putting before you, hoping you would choose a path that did not deal with Stashu too harshly. I knew I was already in trouble. If I'd have been looking out for myself I'd just have said I declined to answer for self-incrimination. Nothing I said or didn't say was going to affect my punishment, as long as I wasn't disrespectful. You could clearly see the truth of the matter where you stood."

"That is also correct, Harry. I took your statement exactly as you had meant it, and responded to it accordingly. I saw you were claiming as much responsibility as Stashu, and that this was a boyish scrap... hence the Livery Stable, rather than anything more serious. No, you were fine with all of that... until you came to your third falsehood to me. That, my son, was truly a lie."

"How, sir? I mean, all I said was what I'd pretty much already said," Harry's voice took on a rather whiny tone, as he shifted in his chair seeking a more comfortable position.

"You told me you were entirely responsible for the fight. And you told me that in an attempt to skew my judgment in Stashu's favor, that I heal him without consequence or regard for his Grandfather's ruling to discourage his habitual fighting. It says a great deal for Stashu's character and integrity that he immediately confronted and contradicted that lie, admitting and taking responsibility for what he had said and done. Of course, he had no idea at the time that in his attempt to keep you out of trouble, he was in fact putting you into it, but that's neither here nor there.

"No, Harry, you lied to me, attempting to influence my judgment and get your own way. You placed your own reasoning and sense of justice over mine, and usurped my authority... or attempted to. For this, and this alone, I hold you accountable. That kind of lie, even when kindly meant, is not acceptable between you and me. Or ever. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir..." Harry looked down as he spoke in a miserable little voice.

"No, Harry. I'm not trying to intimidate you. Do you understand why lying, even to do what you consider a 'good' thing, hurts our relationship and the trust we need always to have between us?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, very faintly, fighting not to sniffle.

"What's wrong, son? Why the tears?" Pavel asked gently.

"I don't know. Just everything! I'm sorry I lied, I tried to do the right things there. I'm sorry I got in a fight. This had been such a fun day, and it's all turning out crap. And my bum hurts, and now I'm going to get tanned again. I just hate this."

"Ah, I understand. Well, you are already forgiven for anything you did wrong. But I've never been more proud of you than I have been today. You put yourself out there to protect and advocate for a boy who treated you like a brat. That is a compassionate heart that nothing I could do could train you to. You didn't whine, complain, or snivel at anything today... you just stood like a man and shouldered your responsibilities. That's wonderful, Harry."

"I thought you were disappointed in me..."

"Never! How could I possibly be disappointed? You got in a schoolyard scrap... all right. That happens. Some village tough makes fun of your school, and you try to walk on. But then he insults your father? You punched him. Wrong action, yes. But not wrong heart. You took responsibility for everything after that, performed your penalty with excellence. No Harry, no part of me is disappointed with you. Right now, you are a little boy with a sore behind, unhappy to make a trip to the Woodshed. GOOD! You SHOULD be unhappy about that. There would be something very off if you were not unhappy and trying to work out any ethical way to avoid this trip. But Harry? I love you, and you are a Konstantyn son. You knowingly broke our rule against lying, attempting to deceive me about the nature of the fight, and influence my judgment on that. That, is unacceptable for you. And for that, you will meet me in the Woodshed... unless you recant your desire to be treated as a Konstantyn son."

"Could I do that?" Harry looked up, confused. "Could I take that back?"

"For the moment, yes, if that's what you want. This is the first time you're really seeing the consequences of that decision, and it wouldn't be fair not to give you this chance," Pavel kept his voice very neutral, not to influence Harry's thinking one way or the other on this, even though he strongly hoped Harry would remain so fully his son.

"No! Papa. Please... I'm so tempted right now, because I don't want to be strapped again. But No! I want to be your son all the way through. Please, let's do whatever we must to make this permanent. I never want to have this choice again, ever," Harry shook his head vehemently, as he jumped off his chair and ran into Pavel's arms. "I don't care, I'm going to trust you, and I never want to choose whether to be a Konstantyn again."

"All right, little man. So be it, _I hereby rescind your right to recant your decision to be a Konstantyn son. Henceforth, no matter what, no matter your feelings or anyone else's, you are my son as fully as though born to Iryna and me. I call forth Magic Itself to witness the permanence of this bond between us, for the rest of our lives. Do you accept this, absolutely and without remainder?"_

 _"Yes, Papa, I do..."_

Thunder rolled across their valley, as Magic witnessed the permanent oath taken between them.

"Then it is done, Harry. You have no further choice, than to be treated as my son, Ivan's brother. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. Um... are we going to the Woodshed now?"

"We are," Pavel answered, releasing Harry from his hug and rising from his chair.

"Can John go with us? Just for this first time?" Harry asked, a bit timidly.

Pavel was a bit confused. "I'd not normally permit it, unless you were being chastened together. I don't believe in humiliation, and most boys don't want their brothers to see them punished."

"I know, but... I'd just feel better with John there. He won't embarrass me, and he usually gives me courage. He's seen me cry before. That's no big deal."

Pavel nodded, "All right then. You go ahead and ask John to walk you to the Woodshed. I'll be along shortly. If you wish, he may stay. Is there anything else you need to tell me? Do you still feel I am being, or have been, unfair to you?"

"No, Papa. Not really. It's all fair, I just don't like it or want it to happen."

"Good," Pavel smiled. "That is exactly what my son should feel in this moment. Go on with you now. I'll be there in a bit."

John was in the kitchen making himself busy, trying not to care what was going on in the Study. Harry walked over to him and put his arms up looking for John to lift and hug him, which his big brother did, in a heartbeat. He supported him by the legs, careful not to put any weight on Harry's seat, as he said, "Everything ok, Squirt?"

"Umm hummm," Harry mumbled into John's shoulder. "Would you take me to the Woodshed? I've asked Papa if you could stay. I don't want to go alone this first time."

"Aw, half-pint. It'll be ok, I promise! You don't have to be afraid..." and John spun around a couple of very quick revolutions, making Harry giggle.

"I'm not afraid... well, not THAT kind of afraid. I'm not afraid of Papa anyway, though I'm sure as hell afraid of his belt."

John didn't have the heart to tell him, if Papa was taking him to the Woodshed, it wasn't a belt that was going to meet his backside. "OK, little buddy, I'll take you. Come on, let's get our jackets on and get a little lead time, then."

So saying, the two boys walked out the Mud Room door past the Tent in the back yard, as Boris and Odessa came bounding up to them. "No!" John said, sharply. "Woodshed!" he said, bringing them to put their tails down and walk away with every show of grief.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, laughing.

"They love it when any of us come out here, and they expect to play or be petted when we do. When I was young, I spent a considerable amount of time walking to or from the Woodshed, and Papa finally taught them to leave me alone for that trip. If I was headed TO the Shed, I didn't much want to play, knowing what was coming. If I was headed back, I certainly didn't want to play, being too busy sniffling and rubbing my backside," John chuckled. "It's been quite a while since they've heard that cue. I guess they'll need to get used to it again."

"Not if I can help it..." Harry resolved. "No way I want to make this trip very often."

They walked behind the Tent, along a flagstone path that headed towards the House Elves Bunk house, where some other outbuildings lay. There was an equipment barn, a stone firepit and hearth for cooking large roasts on a spit, and a fairly long shed with open eaves at the top, about 10 feet high, close to the equipment barn.

"That's it," John pointed, indicating the long shed. We cut and dry wood there. Outside you'll see stacks of cord wood, drying for use in the fireplaces. In good weather we bring the tools out to saw or split the logs. In bad weather, we can do that inside. The wood dries for about 2 years before we use it. Otherwise it will spit and smoke too much."

John led the way to the wooden slat door, unlatched it, and listen to its familiar "squeeeeek", as it opened to the dimly lit interior. There were a few windows here and there, and roof skylights relieving the need for much artificial lighting. Harry came in and again, his first impression was the smell of the place. It was a rich aroma of sawdust, various woods, a lot of pine, and even a vague whiff of what seemed like incense.

Logs, about 8 feet long, 8 to 12 inches around, were stacked along the short side, as sawhorses and log braces stood here and there, supporting wood in the process of being cut. Kindling lay neatly piled in one meter cubes, along with fire logs stacked in alternating rows also a cubic meter at a time. On the walls, hanging from hooks or brackets, stood a variety of tools... from saws, to chisels, planes, wedges, axes, hatchets, and stakes. A set of shelves housed sandpaper, files, and a number of maintenance tools, along with some sets of knives and carving implements. There was also a closed cabinet at the far end of the shelves.

Between the door jamb and the shelves, Harry saw it hanging. It was a strap, a razor strop. Black cowhide, about two feet long, a handle at the bottom hanging from a small leather loop at the top. It was easily three inches wide and clearly much heavier than Papa's belt. Harry gulped as he looked at it.

"Is this it, John?"

"Yes, Harry. Go ahead, you can take it down and heft it," and John watched as Harry did so. "But let me warn you, you are never to come out here alone or try to work with any of this on your own. You will not touch these knives, these tools, or anything else out here without permission. In your hands is a Razor Strop. It is a fine strip of cowhide used to hone a piece of steel to a cutting edge so fine it can split a hair. It is used to polish and hone a fine blade after it's been sharpened as far as it can go with a whetstone. Each of these knives and carving tools are kept at that quality, and they can slice you open deep before you even know they've touched you. You don't EVER mess with them, no matter what, unless you have permission and one of us is with you... understood?"

"Yes, sir," He answered, seldom having heard John sound so stern before.

"I mean it, Harry," If I ever catch you out here disobeying that, the hiding I'll give you will make sitting down a distant happy memory. Now, that's not to say that you are EVER to hesitate to call me or Papa if you're hurt. You hear me? If you are hurt, injured, you tell us immediately... no matter how it happened. We can heal you, and we will. If you try to hide an injury because you got it doing something wrong, it will only make the consequences worse, I guarantee. And you KNOW you can't fool us... even if you want to, you always 'fess up eventually. So let's just never go there, OK?"

Harry nodded, "OK."

With that, they heard Papa's boots making their way down the flagstone path to the door, and Harry hurried to put the Strop back on its nail. Pavel walked in and quietly closed the door behind him.

"Do you still want Ivan to remain, Harry?"

"Yes, sir. If that's all right. I feel better with him here."

"OK, then," and Pavel turned to John, "Please warm the shed, Ivan."

John waved his hand, and a warm breeze blew through the shed, bringing the temperature up to the same comfort as the house, as he moved off to seat himself on the pile of long logs at the end of the space.

"Thank you. Now, Harry, please remove your cloak and jumper. There are hooks here by the door," Pavel instructed, as he, too removed his outer robes.

"Is that all you want me to remove, Papa?" Harry asked, in a voice not quite as strong as he had intended.

Pavel stopped to turn and look at the boy. "Of course. What do you mean, son?"

"I mean, is this punishment 'with or without benefit'?" he proudly asked in a steadier tone.

"I do not humiliate, Harry. I would never ask you to remove your britches and pants, even if I remove their protection from you. Why do you ask?"

"John? Considering the privacy of this shed, did you ever have to drop them for a licking?" Harry asked.

John looked down with a smile, then looked at Pavel. "He has a point, Papa. Yes, Harry. Very rarely, but sometimes, I was tanned bare butt. But only in extraordinary circumstances. Nine times out of ten, it was over my clothes, and most of the time Papa left me with all the protection my clothes could provide. That is, as long as I didn't try to cheat."

"Cheat?" Harry looked confused.

Pavel chuckled, "Let me explain. Ivan did not always arrive here contrite or remorseful. As to 'cheating'... on... three occasions I believe it was, he was due a simple thrashing, but when he bent over it became clear that he had tried to 'enhance his protection' so to speak. I believe on one such occasion, he was wearing five pair of underpants, and his jeans beneath a pair of sweat pants. He might just as well have wrapped up in a sheepskin for all the impact he'd have felt from the Strap. That earned him two additional licks, and a bare backside for the lot. It can't have been all that harsh, since - as I say - he tried it two more times. But generally speaking, John 'had benefit' unless his transgression was particularly childish, selfish, cruel, or rebellious. If he behaved like a little child having a tantrum, or was disrespectful in his defiance, then he would meet the Strap directly. You, Harry, have never yet met such conditions. I honestly don't anticipate that you ever will, though it's always possible."

Harry thought about this. Then quietly he asked, "Papa?"

"Yes, son?"

"That episode with Draco and the Answer Key... If we were here, this way, instead of how that played out?"

Pavel's head nodded backwards as his eyebrows raised. "I stand corrected, son. Yes, that is precisely the sort of thing. That was both childish and selfish... and considering that it was assuredly both 'stealing' and 'lying'... John would have found himself here distinctly without benefit. You have done such a thing, yes. But still... bear in mind... John was born in my arms, I changed his nappies, bathed him, and taught him how to use a toilet. We have healed one another's injuries for years. There is not, and never has been, embarrassment between us in such circumstances. Are you saying that you would be equally open... that you'd not be embarrassed or humiliated in such a case?"

"I don't know for sure, sir. It's embarrassing to get spanked in the first place, and have to assume the position and take the licks. Certainly dropping one's drawers to do that is a bit worse. But as long as there is privacy, and it's only family, it seems like it would be fair and fitting. Especially if it were for doing something bratty in the first place. Being paddled like a brat seems... well... right. Or at least... OK... kinda."

"Very well then, Harry. So be it. Now, let me clarify just one more thing on this. You realize that if I am not here or available, or if you are in Ivan's care... that it may be Ivan's responsibility to discipline you, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ivan is not me, Harry. We do not always see things the same way. Sometimes he is stricter than I, and sometimes less. But, if you are in Ivan's care, he will treat you as he would his own son... so... are you saying that you would authorize him to chasten you without benefit, if he considers that appropriate?"

"Yes, sir. I do. I know he may not always be right. Hell, YOU may not always be right. But I know neither of you are going to do anything except out of love for me. And that's enough."

"You constantly amaze me, Harry. Ivan? Any questions, thoughts or concerns about that?" Pavel looked at his two sons.

"No, that all seems pretty clear."

"Very well then, so be it." Pavel said, as having hung up his ever present waistcoat, he removed his cufflinks, wand and sheath, laying them down on a workbench near the brace supported log being sawn as slowly he rolled each starched shirt cuff halfway up his forearms. He walked to the Strap, removed it from its nail, and gave it an experimental swing or two. The sound of the air swishing aside as he swung it, chilled Harry to the bone. This was going to hurt like hell, but he'd get through it.

"Harry, you see these tools, knives and carving instruments around you?" Harry nodded. "I am sure Ivan has already told you, but let me repeat so that there is no chance for misunderstanding. You are NOT to come out here, be alone here, or work in this room without permission and one of us with you. Many of these tools can take your hand off faster than lightning. If either of us catch you here, for any reason, with any excuse... I assure you, you will be turned over this log, bare your backside, and take such a hiding you won't sit for a week. That is neither hyperbole nor threat, Harry. That is a promise. Do... you... understand... me? That is no Challenge."

"Yes, sir, I understand." Harry said, again knowing that he'd never heard Papa so serious in his life.

"Very well. Harry, assume the position, bend over that log, and place your hands on the workbench beyond."

"Yes, sir," Harry complied.

"You are keeping all clothing because there was no selfishness, childishness, rebellion or meanness to your lie. You meant to do good with it. You simply exceeded your authority, and tried to take mine by being dishonest. That, is unacceptable."

Harry bent over with his eyes closed, listening to this recitation of his crime, wondering how bad this was going to be, even as he still felt the throbbing ache of his earlier strapping. He was so worried and preoccupied that he didn't even notice that Papa hadn't told him to put his mouthpiece in.

He heard and saw a mighty swing of the strap, shuddered as he heard the horrendous, "SWAT!" of impact with his derriere, but felt... only the lightest touch to his backside. Less than a congratulatory pat from a Quidditch Teammate. He waited for the next blow, eyes closed again... until he heard Papa putting the Strop back on its nail.

"Rise, Harry. We are finished," Pavel said, as he began replacing his wand, cufflinks, and clothing.

"WHAT?" Harry said, laughing as he stood up. "That's it? Seriously? What about the non-negotiable family rule, and all that?"

"The rule's consequence, leather to child, has been fulfilled. You were hided."

"But it didn't hurt, Papa!"

"Did it have to? Don't you fully understand what you did wrong, why it was wrong, and know you'll not try to 'out parent' me again?"

"Well, yes, sir. But I'm still sorry I did it."

"Good. You should be. Would you do the same thing over again?"

"No, sir. You know what you're doing, without my help that way."

"Then your punishment is well and truly satisfied, and I think we should go on and have some fun today, don't you?" Pavel chuckled, holding open the door.

"Um, well, yes... almost." Harry looked a bit embarrassed.

Pavel knew that tone of voice well, and could feel guilt radiating off Harry. Gently, he again closed the door, as he said, "What is it, my son?"

"Well, sir. I really was pretty out of order today. I thought I knew better than you what to do, and tried to manipulate you... which I know you hate. Later I was pretty pissy about all this, and accused you of being unfair. Um, I kind of acted like a spoiled brat, til John sort of set me straight. But, I needed to tell you this, in case you need to address it," and Harry found himself examining the toes of his trainers very closely as his ears blushed a bit.

"I see," Pavel nodded. "So you misbehaved a bit today in ways I knew nothing about, acting rather spoiled and privileged, disrespectful of me, and you feel guilty enough to need that to be addressed? Have I got that right?"

"Yes, sir. I guess so..." Harry mumbled.

"No, my son. That's not how this works. If you are confessing wrongdoing, you do so boldly and openly. If you place yourself on report, and expect punishment, you don't whimper your way to it. It is... or it is not. Now which is it?"

Harry squared himself up, stood at attention facing Pavel, and said in a clear strong voice, "Sir, I confess to such misbehavior that you didn't know, and I offer myself up for correction."

 _"Very well, Harry. I accept your confession and apology for disrespect and inappropriate attitude. Your punishment will be to be sent to bed immediately after supper, no games, no conversation, no pleasure reading. You will change your clothes and you may study any of your schoolwork for one hour before going to bed. Is that clear?"_ Pavel pronounced, in his "passing sentence" voice.

 _"Aw... maaaan!_ I thought we were going to decorate and get things ready for the guys coming in a couple days tonight! Not to mention playing some games!"

"As indeed we were, and as John, Oxsana, and I yet are. YOU however, have misbehaved, for which you are being grounded tonight. Now, is... that... clear?"

"Yes, sir... it's clear," Harry fumed, now exiting the Woodshed to kick clods of snow from the edges of the walkway, as Pavel and John exchanged grins with a shake of the head above and behind their long-suffering waif.

"And by the way, it seems you are struggling with appropriate, or inappropriate language these days. Your outburst in your bedroom... presumably part of your heretofore undisclosed attitude problem?"

"Yes, sir..." Harry groaned.

"And your description just now, accurate as it may have been, of said attitude?"

"You mean 'pissy'?" Harry winced a bit.

"I do indeed, my son. Twenty minutes, corner, when we get home."

"Aw... PAPA! Really? Do I have to? Come ON!" Harry was in full blown whine by now.

"No, Harry, you don't have to. It can be twice that long for arguing about your punishment, if you prefer." Pavel replied.

"No, thank you, sir. Twenty minutes it is..." Harry conceded.

They got home, through the cordon of dogs, again uttering the password "Woodshed" to avoid being bounced upon. John sat down at the kitchen table to continue sorting through his recipes, as Harry asked if he could stand in the corner near John. Pavel agreed, as he walked on to his Study to work on papers and projects he needed to attend to.

Harry stood there in the corner, absently kicking the baseboard, thinking about the entire day. When he was out of this, he wanted to know WAY more about this whole "Your Grace" stuff. It was one thing to be a local VIP of some kind. He'd always known Pavel was some sort of big shot. Even Ministry people were respectful around him. But... there seemed more to all of this than he'd thought of before.

Pavel's raised voice carried through the house, "Harry, if you don't stop kicking that wall, I'm adding 10 more minutes. And John, you know better than to let him keep doing that!"

"Sorry, Papa!" they both called back, as briefly they looked at one another and laughed.

"And no laughing, either, or you're BOTH heading into corners."

"Yes, sir!" they called back, smothering even the thought of giggling.

When his time was up, Pavel called to Harry, "You're released. Now, please try to stay out of trouble for just a little while, eh?"

"Yes, Papa," Harry replied, rolling his eyes with some sense of safety, as Pavel was two rooms away. "John? I REALLY don't want to be sent to bed early. Can't you talk Papa out of it? It's a HOLIDAY for Merlin's sake. I wouldn't even have to worry about bed checks and getting up for class. _Pleeeeease?_ " as Harry put on his very best hang-dog look.

"Nope! You know better Little Brother. When have I EVER been able to talk Papa out of a punishment, once he's ruled on it? Before hand? Maybe... I can influence that a bit. But once he speaks, no sir, that's a done deal. There's only one way you get out of that grounding, and you know what it is."

"You've got to be joking, John. Are you seriously suggesting a paddling? TODAY? After all THIS?" Harry cried in an anguished tone.

"Absolutely not, Baby Brother. I'm suggesting no such thing. I'm just saying, that's the only method for avoiding an assigned penalty. And that is entirely up to you," John laughed, utterly understanding how Harry felt. He'd often been in the same boat, getting licked for breaking a cardinal rule, then grounded... then opting for a paddling rather than the grounding. It was really tough to do, but at least it didn't drag on with endless boredom, like being grounded did. Or missing a good party, like this would be. It would be interesting to see what Harry decided.

"John, may I go outside and play with the dogs? I want to transform into one too, and see if we can play together a bit." Harry asked.

"I don't see why not, Squirt. You're not on any restriction right now. Go ask Papa if it's all right. He may even want to go with you, for a first romp with Boris and Odessa."

"OK, that sounds like fun, in fact!" Harry scampered for the Study. Finding the door open, he waited there as he knocked politely and said, "Papa? May I interrupt you a moment?"

"Так, що це таке?" Pavel looked up and smiled... "I'm sorry, I was distracted. Yes, what is it?"

"I'd like to go outside and play with the dogs, transformed into a dog. John's fine with that, but thought I should ask if it's ok, and that maybe you'd want to come too, for a first romp with them."

Pavel put his quill down, slowly spun in his chair to look out the windows at the waning light of this brilliant day, thought about it, and said, "Yes! Let's do that! It is a good idea. Come!" and he rose from his chair to take Harry by the hand and stride towards the Kitchen. Walking by John at his table, Pavel said, "You want to come, Ivan?"

"No thank you, Papa. I'm going to finish up some work here, and Oxsana should be arriving shortly. You two go have some quality time together... and try to stay out of trouble, eh?"

"Pfft!" Harry replied, as his father gently batted the back of his head... "Aaayyy!" Harry laughed.

"Some respect for your elder brother, please," Pavel growled, with a chuckle in his voice.

"Yes, sir..." Harry replied, with little to no conviction.

As they exited the Mud Room Boris and Odessa bounded over to them. Pavel's upraised finger planted their backsides in the snow as they swept snow angels with their wagging tails, waiting to pounce on the humans. "Go ahead, Harry, transform..."

Harry smiled joyfully at the dogs as he imagined himself in their form, and... try though he did to take adult size... "POOF!"... he transmuted into a quarter-grown puppy of their breed and coloration. Pavel decided to do the same, taking adult size, with a bit of gray and white coloring his muzzle and jowls. Boris and Odessa howled with delight to see them, and Harry was overwhelmed with "doggy-speak" as they leapt upon him.

The first thing that happened was that Odessa ran up to him and flipped him, most undecorously, onto his back... licking him all over, particularly under the tail and around his mouth.

"AAaayyyy! STOP THAT! QUIT! Hey! That TICKLES! Cut it OUT!" but nothing he said made the slightest difference to the two delighted dogs, sniffing and nuzzling him from head to toe.

"It's no use, Harry... you're a puppy and they love you... and this is how they'll greet you every time. Just give them a minute, and we can move on!" Pavel woofled to him.

"Can't you stop them, Papa?" Harry complained, half whining half laughing.

"Not in this form, I can't. Besides, they need this to 'recognize' you forever. They're programming your unique signature into their muzzles. Just wait it out a moment. They'll stop, honest."

"Yes, sir... if you say so," and, sure as his words, within a minute or so they rolled him back over onto his belly as he tried to stand and toddle on. A few more muzzle nudges and nuzzles, and the four of them were able to lope down the slope behind the house, bounding carefree through the snow drifts piled here and there by the wind.

Harry couldn't bound through deep snow like the bigger dogs could, but found he could burrow through it instead. So, he let them get a bit ahead of him, then dove into a huge drift and started tunneling downhill, then crossways into another drift. In only a few seconds, Boris and Odessa discovered he was not with them. Pavel had seen Harry's maneuver with his first dive, and realized what he was doing. It made him laugh to see the dogs' confusion, and then concern, that they'd so quickly lost track of their puppy. They stopped, listened, sniffed, then figured out he was under the snow somewhere.

Being related to mastiffs, which made them related to St. Bernards, they quickly ran to the opening of his tunnel and sought to follow him through it. The quick little monkey, however, had slithered past tons of snow that they were just piling up and packing against their shoulders, making it impossible for them to move forward more than ten feet. They came back up to the surface and looked carefully all around the snowpack, realizing they could hear... and just barely scent... where the puppy was digging. Once they did... "BOOM" they pounced upon him like a cat upon a mouse, collapsing his tunnel all around him as they muzzle-shoveled all the snow off him.

Harry could hear them scolding him with loud barks, "Don't DO that! The snow can bury you! People get buried sometimes, and we have to dig them out! BAD PUPPY! and Odessa nipped him on the hindquarters.

"HEY! OW! Don't DO that!" he wailed, as his poor backside felt that far more than he normally would. Pavel found himself thinking this just wasn't the boy's day.

"Come on, let's just run around a bit. I know where the snow is shallower, and you won't have to dig to get through," Pavel suggested, leading the way up to the road and pave stones around the Gasthausen. "Don't worry about messing up the snow, Harry. We'll have it all pristine again, by the time our guests arrive.

So for the next half hour the four of them had a wonderful time running about, playing tag, and chasing rabbits when they could spot them. Harry discovered that even as a clumsy puppy, he could corner and dodge a bit faster than Boris and Odessa, so he enjoyed running between their legs at times, and seeing them nearly somersault trying to nip at him.

It was starting to get dark when Pavel called the games to a halt. "Let's get back inside now. It's going to get very cold as the dark comes, and dinner is probably almost ready. Race you!" and he went tearing off towards the Mud Room doggy door at top speed. Boris and Odessa could easily have outrun Harry, but they didn't, wanting to make sure he got inside safely. The four of them stood in the kitchen absolutely caked with snow, when instinct took over and... All four of them shook themselves dry, flinging snow and very small snowballs everywhere.

John, still sitting working at the table, suddenly found himself showered with second hand snow and ice clots. "Heyyyy!" he protested at the top of his lungs. "What's the big idea? You know better than that... the FOUR of you! Shame on you! You two," he pointed at Boris and Odessa... "Rugs! NOW!" then he looked at Pavel and Harry, "and as for YOU two! Showers! Now! Dinner should be ready in 20 minutes, and Oxsana will be here. I don't want to sit here eating with the smell of two wet dogs! GO!" John laughed.

Pavel and Harry looked at one another and laughed in doggy, then Harry tagged Pavel with a paw and broke for the stairs up. Pavel followed more discretely behind, to make sure Harry didn't slip or fall trying to negotiate a wrought iron spiral staircase on unaccustomed puppy paws. But Harry successfully made it to his room, and so they both retired to shower and change for dinner.

Harry stood in the shower thinking long and hard. They were only going to have three days together alone as a family before all the guests arrived. He REALLY didn't want to miss partying with them tonight. He checked his backside there in the shower and saw nothing, but he could still feel the heat. The sting was gone, but it ached to press or sit down on it. Finally he came to a decision, turned off the water, and toweled off to change into his dinner clothes.

A few minutes later, he mind-spoke, _"Papa, are you free for a couple minutes? Are you dressed yet?"_

 _"Yes, son. What is it?"_

 _"Would you please join me in my room for a moment?"_

 _"Be right there." And a moment later, Pavel knocked quietly on Harry's bedroom door._ "What is it, son?"

"Papa, we've only got three nights as a family to be together and have fun before all our guests arrive. I know that will be fun too, but I don't want to miss tonight. So... I am truly very sorry that I was a smart aleck, and copped a bad attitude, and didn't come to the Study when I was supposed to. I apologize, and I'd rather hand you this than be grounded tonight after dinner," Harry said, handing Pavel his little paddle.

Pavel looked on in shock. "Really? Harry, you would sooner take your third spanking in a single day, than be sent to bed early tonight?"

"Yes, sir. I never had fun nights before in my life. School is fine, and I love it. But home... with family... that's really special to me. I don't want my misbehavior to cost me one of these nights. It's too important to me."

"I understand. Very well then, you know what to do," and as Pavel removed his waistcoat, one button at a time, and his cufflinks and wand, Harry got out a pillow and set it in position at the edge of his bed. "So, my knee rather than assuming the position?"

"Yes sir. I've already assumed the position enough today," Harry smiled wryly, as he rubbed his backside for a last minute of comfort.

Even Pavel had to laugh as he sat down and hefted Harry's paddle. "True, that. All right, mouthpiece and glasses. Harry? Why are you taking this paddling?"

"Because I was disrespectful, slow in obedience, had a snotty attitude, cussed, and generally thought you were being an unfair jerk. I was wrong, and I'm sorry," Harry said in a businesslike tone, as he positioned himself over Pavel's left knee and his pillow, wincing just the slightest bit as his britches grew tight over his still tender backside.

Pavel was glad Harry couldn't see him as he made this confession. He was so proud of the boy, so in touch with his feelings and honest about them... he smiled realizing that he'd much sooner hug him right now, than swat him. "Harry, I want you to know, this punishment is primarily to relieve you of your guilt, not my displeasure. Do you understand that? Apparently you need just a little sting to your bottom, to forgive yourself for what you were thinking and feeling today. I'll not have you guilty in my presence, understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'm ready..."

So, with no more force than an average mousetrap, Pavel laid three slightly stinging swats on Harry's sit spots. He could hear the sharp hiss of Harry's intaken breath as each swat landed, but he knew it was from the "reawakening" of his earlier spanking, rather than any new trauma applied.

"Is that sufficient, Mr. Potter-Konstantyn? Or do you need a few more reminders to express my displeasure?" Pavel held the paddle aloft where Harry could clearly see it hovering above his rump.

"Sufficient! Sufficient, sir! You're Papa, I'm not. Got it!" Harry gasped, breathlessly.

"Good!" Pavel said. "Three whippings in one day equals Ivan on his best day. I'd not have thought it likely on your first holiday home from school. PLEASE tell me we're finished with this paddle for the next week!?"

Harry stood during this lecture, again rubbing his backside with intensity. "That's fine with me, sir. I'll be happy not to have to bend over again for the next YEAR!"

"'Tis sincerely to be hoped, my boy, sincerely to be hoped. Now, I believe John and Oxsana may be waiting for us for supper. And tonight we shall have some fun, all together. I'll let you explain why you are able to join us, but don't feel embarrassed to share with them. They've both stood to more than one meal in this house before." Pavel chuckled.

"Oh, Papa, don't tell me... can't I be healed to sit and eat?" Harry looked forlorn.

"No, sir. You asked for the same penalty as Stashu, and he'll have no relief until morning. You, sir, are on your own." Pavel shook his head.

 _"Aw, maaannn!_ " Harry whined.

"That's my boy! I love you, son."

"I love you, too, Papa. Just, maybe not your belt so much!"

"Fair enough, son. Fair enough."

And together they walked into the Kitchen to join John and Oxsana for a feast!

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. This chapter was both great fun, and a great challenge, to write. I hope Pavel has not come off more harshly than he deserves. But there's no getting around... Harry has had both a totally triumphal, and a totally hard... day._


	20. Family Days

_**A/N** I don't know why, maybe it's because so much has been dramatic or heavy or negative the past chapter or two, but writing this chapter was so much fun. This one is like, just everyone in a good mood at the same time. Maybe it's just release of tension from yesterday or something. Let me know what you think._

* * *

 **Family Days**

Harry woke suddenly with brilliant sunlight streaming in through his bedroom windows, and Dobby the house elf bobbing anxiously on his bed at his feet. Dobby's ears and multiple neckties flapped with his bouncing in a fascinating way that only added to Harry's momentary confusion. Reaching for his glasses, he muttered, "Dobby? Hi. Good to see you. What's the matter? Is anything wrong?"

"I don't know, Master Harry. I thought you called me!" Dobby looked anxiously at his favorite human.

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I did. I was asleep, and maybe I was dreaming. I don't need anything, I don't think. But I'm still happy to see you." Harry smiled. "Where are you spending the holiday? Here? Or back at the school?" Harry sat up, looking at the Tempus over his nightstand, amazed to see that it was 8:00 a.m. already. He never usually got to sleep in this late, even on weekends.

"I've been back and forth, but mostly here, getting acquainted with these House Elves. Things are very different here, Master Harry. They didn't even want to let me dress properly. And... and... they wear proper clothes... even the ones who are bound to Master Konstantyn's service. It's all very strange. But... anyway... I'm so sorry about yesterday. I had to go stand in the corner for Master Konstantyn because I got so upset. Do you need me to heal you? I'm so... sorry... I couldn't help!"

Harry laughed. He hadn't even remembered the "yesterday" Dobby was referring to, though now that he was reminded, he clearly recalled standing up for dinner, too uncomfortable to sit at the Kitchen table without a cushioning charm. Gently he sat up straight in his bed, testing for any discomfort. Finding none, he bounced an experimental time or two... then got out of bed and sat boldly on his desk chair. "Nope, Dobby, all's well with all of that. I'm fine. And don't be mad at Papa, little friend. I specifically asked him for to do what he did. It wasn't his idea."

"Dobby wishes Harry Potter would not ask for such things. It makes Dobby feel bad..." the little elf looked up with his sad bulbous eyes, sniffling just a little bit.

"Come here, Dobby," Harry laughed, holding out his arms as he walked back to the bed. Dobby reached up as Harry lifted him into a huge hug and they cuddled a moment. "You take wonderful care of me always, Dobby, and I'm very lucky to have you in my life and looking out for me. But so do Papa and John and Oxsana. You don't have to feel bad ever, about how they treat me. OK?"

"OK, Master Harry," Dobby snuffed one more minor sniffle as he nodded his head nuzzling Harry's shoulder... gently batting Harry with one floppy pointed ear.

"SO!" Harry said energetically, as he put Dobby back down on the bed. "What's happening downstairs? What have I missed so far?"

"Nothing really, Master Harry. Masters Konstantyn are sitting at the Kitchen table having breakfast as your Papa reads the paper. By the way," Dobby's voice dropped to a whisper, "his newpapers have very funny looking writing on them. In fact, everything around here does!"

"Yes, Dobby. Well, we're in a different part of the world now, where the alphabet is different. This alphabet, this writing, is called Cyrillic, and is based on Greek letters, rather than the Roman ones we are used to. Is that a problem for House Elves? Do you read the letters of human writing the way we do, or do you just 'understand' what the person means when they write?"

"We can understand whatever we need to. But funny letters still look odd." Dobby nodded.

"OK, then. I'm going to go get some breakfast, if you'd be kind enough to ask John not to eat it all. I'll be down in just a couple minutes."

"Yes, Master Harry. Dobby will tell them you are coming. And I shall make you more breakfast, if Master John eats everything."

Harry laughed as he dashed into his bathroom to take a shower, grabbing his clothes for the day and dribbling his nightwear on the floor one piece at a time as he went. Five minutes later, he dashed from the bathroom, tied his trainers on his feet, and headed for the kitchen. He considered sliding down the banister of the spiral stairs, but thought it a bit early in the day to court trouble with parental authorities. So, he settled for sailing down the spiral holding the center post and taking four steps at a time.

Thundering into the kitchen like a minor storm, Harry all but skidded to a halt at his seat, prevented only by the rubber treaded soles of his trainer, squeaking nonetheless as his chair skidded a bit with the impact of his body weight. "Morning all!" he chirped. "What's on the agenda for today? Did I miss anything yet?" Excitedly he began to pour hot chocolate into his cup, as John passed a platter of pastries his way, and his father slowly put down his newspaper.

"Good morning, Harry," Pavel laughed. "Were you, perchance, practicing your animagic by transforming into a baby elephant this morning? I thought that's what I heard coming down the stairs."

Harry nearly snorted a laugh through his cocoa as he composed himself. "No, sir. Sorry. Guess I was a little excited. Last night was fun, even if I did get a little tired of standing. So, what's on for today? Is Oxsana still here?"

"Of course not!" Pavel said, in a tone of affront. "She is staying with her mother at night, which is only proper. Otherwise she would have one of the Gasthausen, until she and Ivan are married!"

"Sorry, Papa, no offense meant. You DO realize we're living in the 20th Century, right?" Harry decided to tease Papa just a little.

"That may well be so, young man," Pavel realized Harry was poking a bit of fun at him. "But nonetheless, as you will discover when you begin to date, in this family even the 20th century includes proper behavior and manners. Speaking of which..." now it was Pavel's turn to smile at Harry's expense, "when our company arrives, you will find you are in the role of a host to guests at our country home. Your manners are to be impeccable, you will rise when a lady or elder enters the room, and you will dress properly for dinner each night."

"Dress properly? What does that mean? School uniform?" Harry almost whined.

"No, but it does mean dress shirt and tie, waistcoat, dress pants, and proper shoes. No t-shirts, jeans, or trainers at the dinner table," Pavel said in serious tones.

"WHAT? But Papa, surely Ron, Fred and George won't be all dressed up! Why do I have to..."

"This is not Ron, Fred, or George's home, Harry. They are not hosting this houseparty. You are wasting time and breath to argue on this. Even Ivan will be properly dressed, and he has argued this for years. I thought we may as well get this out of the way early on."

Harry looked at John seeking some support to his argument, only to see a resigned look on his brother's face.

"It's true, Harry," John said. "You may as well give it up, and if you argue long enough you'll only wind up in the corner. On the up side, however, it's only dinner... or some formal event out that we have to dress for. The rest of the time, casual clothes are fine.

"OK, then, Papa. I give up. But, then again... um... I don't think I packed my dress clothes," Harry offered with a degree of hope in his voice. "I think I left all that at Hogwarts!" he grinned.

"No fear, my son. You did indeed. But I packed them for you, and they're all neatly in your wardrobe, starched, pressed, and ready to go. No need tonight, though."

"How thoughtful of you, Papa. Thank you so much," Harry mocked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Think nothing of it, son. My pleasure. I live but to serve," Pavel responded, just as willing to jest as Harry. "So, to answer your original question, MY plans today are simple. This morning I have some work to do, both paperwork here in my Study, and a couple meetings and appointments. I should be free by Noon, when I thought we can eat lunch either here at home, or at the Pub, or at a little cafe in the village you may like. Your choice. After lunch I wondered if you would like to fly with me... and Ivan if you'd like to go, son... and just tour the estate a bit?"

"No thank you, Papa," John replied. "I should be busy this afternoon putting stuff away from this morning's shopping. I thought, if Harry isn't too busy or have other plans this morning, he and I could go get some of the specialty items for Thanksgiving Dinner that aren't available around here."

"Shopping? Like, for groceries? Vegetables and fruits and stuff?" Harry asked, somewhat disappointed... trying not to sound like he thought that would be as unutterably boring as he truly thought it would be.

"Um, yeah... sort of. I want to get some onions and snails from Paris, some lobsters from New York City, and some dates from Cairo. Also some mangos, for chutney, from Hawaii... and a few other things. But, if you don't feel like shopping, I'm sure you could..."

"That sounds FINE, John. I'll be GLAD to help..." Harry perked up immediately.

"You're sure... it won't be too much trouble?" John teased.

"No, not at all. I but live to serve, as Papa said," and the three of them laughed.

"Very well then, sounds like a plan. I shall expect to meet you here at Noon, then, Harry. Let me know if you'll be late. There's no big hurry, I'll just get some more work done if so. Be safe, be careful, and have a good time when and where you go. And remember what we talked about yesterday, Harry... when you're out with Ivan, he is in charge and you are accountable to him entirely. That doesn't mean that if you misbehave you won't have to face me as well when you get home, but he carries my authority while you are away with him. You understand that, eh?" and Pavel waited for Harry's acknowledgment. "For now, you'd better get through those bacon and eggs... I think Ivan has a busy trip planned out for you."

"Yes, sir, I'm on it." Harry enjoyed breakfast immensely.

"And Ivan?"

"Yes, Papa?" John looked up at him.

"This is Harry's first trip to New York City, yes?" Papa smiled, as Ivan blushed a bit and nodded. "Well, let's see to it this goes a bit better than YOUR first trip there did, eh?"

"Yes, sir," John said quietly, as he too focused intently on his bacon and eggs.

 _Harry mind-spoke to John, "Big Brother, clearly there's a story there, isn't there?"_

 _"Yes..." John answered, curtly._

 _"What happened?" Harry probed._

 _"I'll tell you later... maybe. MUCH later, Harry," John tried to close this topic off._

 _"OK. I'm sure Papa will tell me sometime..." Harry teased, bringing a withering glare from his older brother._

Pavel had returned to his coffee and newspaper, only to say aloud a moment later... "If Ivan does not tell you the story, I will do so... later."

"Thank you, Papa," Harry giggled, as John just groaned without further comment.

* * *

A little while later, Oxsana had arrived to go shopping with John and Harry as Papa came out of his Study to see them off.

"Wait, just one moment..." Pavel said, as he blinked away from them, and they heard his footsteps on the floor above.

"What's he doing?" Harry asked curiously, having put on his heavy jacket hanging at the front door. He'd enjoyed his breakfast, elves had popped away all the mess, and he was excited to be adventuring with his big brother and sister - as he thought of Oxsana - in parts unknown of which he had only read.

"Probably checking that your room is neat, Harry. He always did that for me when we were on holiday. 'Attention to detail', and 'courtesy to those who serve us', like any sort of manners... doesn't get a 'holiday' when we're home from school."

"Oh S**T!" Harry exclaimed clearly audible throughout the house, instantly blinking to his room, speaking the moment he arrived, "I'm SO sorry, Papa! I wasn't thinking. I just rushed down to breakfast the moment I got out of the bathroom and..." Harry was spouting his explanations and excuses even before he looked around to find Papa standing in the middle of... his perfectly orderly room. His mouth actually fell open as slowly he turned one complete revolution to find all his dirty clothes picked up, the bathroom dry and clean, and even his bed perfectly made. Realizing he'd put his foot in it big time, he just spun on his heel trying to exit with as much grace as possible. He knew that blinking away would be a wrong thing to do.

"STOP!" Pavel called, parade ground voice, suppressing the chuckle he felt at the back of his throat. "About face, young man."

Harry grimaced, as he knew the right way to do this, and executed the movement properly, right toe behind and just left of his left heel, placing his weight on said toe and heel to spin 180 degrees, ending in the position of attention, heels together, toes at 45 degree angle apart. He stood silently, looking straight ahead, as Pavel walked over to him.

"Why were you so distressed, my son? One would think you'd be proud to show me so orderly a room as you left the house, hmmmm?" Pavel used that silky voice that so often opened an episode of verbal castigation. It was the tone he usually reserved for thanking a latecomer for deigning to grace their classroom with their presence. Unfortunately, rather than just berating him, Papa was asking a question that required answer. The trick here was not to lie, nor respond with any disrespect. His mind was running at light speed to construct the proper response.

"Sir, I respectfully decline to answer on the grounds that I might incriminate, tend to incriminate, or lead to the incrimination of myself, sir!" Harry recited on a single breath.

"I see..." Pavel smiled, thinking through this puzzle before him. Harry had clearly failed to pick up his room before coming down to breakfast. He then forgot about it and was about to leave the house, violating a standing rule. The only penalty would have been that Harry be grounded to his room one hour for every item that was out of order, whether that was clothing on the floor, unmade bed, or whatever. This was not a serious matter, but it was a matter of consistency of discipline. He could see Harry's successful struggle to remain honest, of which Pavel approved. Yet here was the room, in perfect order. How could that be?... he pondered... then realized...

"Dobby? Would you come here please?" Pavel said, quietly.

Dobby instantly popped into the room before them.

"Dobby, say nothing. Harry, in the total absence of any direct evidence that you've broken any rules, I cannot take your assertion of right against self-incrimination as being a guilty plea, or evidence of wrong doing. If I wanted to push this, I would ask Dobby right here and right now if he cleaned your room for you when you went to breakfast."

Dobby began to squirm a bit, as a small whimpering sound escaped him and he stared at his feet.

"Dobby?" Pavel said very gently, "I am NOT going to do that, so please don't be disturbed. But I am simply going to repeat, here where both of you can hear me clearly, Harry... himself... is supposed to set his room in order before leaving the house, whether here or at Hogwarts. That rule is in place for two reasons: One, attention to detail, at all times. Two, respect for the time and concern of those who serve us. There is no excuse for a healthy young man not to get his own clothes into a hamper, or make his own bed without the assistance of a House Elf. Now, is that clearly understood, by BOTH of you?"

Frenetic nods and "Yes, sir's" came in response.

"Very well, then we will let this go this time. Now Dobby, if Harry forgets, there's no reason you may not remind him of the need to take care of his room. But you are not to do it for him, is that clear?"

"Yes, Master Konstantyn. Dobby is sorry..." his pointy ears drooped sadly.

"Come, come!" Pavel laughed, stretching out his arms to pick up Dobby with a quick cuddle. "Nothing to be sorry for! I'm not angry at all. Just don't go spoiling this boy any more than we already do, eh?" And Dobby giggled as Pavel hugged him with a slight tickle around the ribs.

Harry smiled as yet he stood at attention, uncertain if he'd been dismissed or not. He decided to test the waters, "Permission to speak, sir?"

"Denied," Pavel answered, putting Dobby down gently. "Now, as for YOU, young man... downstairs, now. SCOOT!"

Harry scooted, heading over to John and Oxsana, hoping they were all about to leave. Pavel followed close behind.

"Ivan? Oxsana? Do I understand that your first stop was to be Marcel's Fish Market, _La Poissonerie de Marcel?"_

"Yes, Papa Pavel. I LOVE that market! And the little _Pâtisserie_ there next door to it! Mmmmm," Oxsana gushed, excitedly.

"Very good. Well, you two go on ahead. Mr. Potter-Konstantyn here owes me ten minutes in a corner, for inappropriate speech. I will bring him to meet you when he is finished. You'll probably still be sorting through snails," Pavel smiled, as Harry just glared at him, not daring to speak from the position of attention he'd assumed when they arrived in the kitchen.

"Ah, all right Papa Pavel." Looking at Harry's crestfallen expression she said, "Don't be upset, little brother. I've spent HOURS in Konstantyn corners for speaking before I thought. We won't do anything fun without you, I promise!" and she planted kisses on both Harry's cheeks, as she grabbed John and they blinked instantly out of the room.

"Follow me, Harry." Pavel ordered as he entered his Study and sat down to a pile of parchments and bound leather journals. "That corner," Pavel pointed to the dullest corner of the room, at the junction of two bookcases.

"Can't I stand HERE, Papa?" Harry whined, picking a corner with a window wall, so he could see outside.

"Now that would rather defeat the purpose of the exercise, would it not? One more word and your time will increase!" Papa's voice took on that low rumbling growl that warned Harry discussion was finished for the moment.

"Yes, sir..." he mumbled in defeat, as he stood in his corner. Ever so softly, once in a while, he would kick the baseboard of the bookcase.

"One more time, Harry, and you'll find yourself on your knees for another ten minutes." Pavel said, in his classroom voice.

Harry nodded, as he snapped to attention and did the rest of his punishment without complaint.

"Why are you in the corner, Harry?" Pavel asked, as the Tempus ticked over the ninth minute.

"Because I cussed, sir."

"And why is that forbidden, Harry?"

"Because 'a wizard must always keep control of his feelings and his words, lest his magic go awry'" Harry recited from memory, almost managing to keep the sing-song of sarcasm from his recitation.

"I'm glad you remember and are aware of that, my son. You seem to be struggling with that self-control on this trip. If I must address it again, you'll write that 200 times from your corner, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry," Harry looked down. Papa didn't really have that many rules, compared to the cool stuff he got to do all the time. He regretted misbehaving and Pavel having to address his misbehavior.

A moment later, "Time's up, Harry. Come along, let's get you to Paris, eh?" Pavel rose from his desk, setting his work aside, and reaching for his outer robes and cloak.

Harry walked over to Pavel and held his clothing up to assist while Pavel put them on. Then Harry grabbed on to Pavel in a big hug around his waist. "I'm sorry, Papa. I don't know why I'm being so snotty here. Especially after you were so nice about my room and all. You're the best!"

Pavel dropped back into his chair to hug Harry deeply eye to eye. "Harry! Nothing's wrong. I'm not angry or disappointed. And you're not being particularly snotty. You're very excited with this holiday, and that is understandable. You were angry and resentful at being put in the corner for cussing, and that's exactly what you SHOULD be... it's a childish punishment, meant to restore my authority to my rules, and force you to conquer your resentment with obedience. Should you ever get to where you LIKE to stand in the corner, I would have to find some other way of spending your time that you resent. That's EXACTLY what a normal boy your age should be doing and feeling... I don't want a son made of spun sugar like some winged cherubic angel atop one of the cakes you will see in a few minutes. I want YOU, just as you are... complete with your periodic 'snottiness', 'forgetfulness', 'messiness', and kicking my baseboards. Because I love you just as you are, and as long as you mind and respect me, I can teach you how to behave along with being a brilliant independent thinker and tactician. And... even should you forget, from time to time, to mind and respect me... I can even deal with that too, eh?" And with this Pavel rose, tousling Harry's unruly mop of hair.

"Ayyyy! Papa!" Harry complained, whining as he tried to finger comb his cranial thatch back into something like order.

"Don't tell me you want to wait a moment and comb your hair!" Pavel gasped in mock amazement.

"Of course not! Don't be ridiculous... sir." Harry added as an afterthought. Taking Pavel's hand, he continued, "Now, where are we blinking to?"

Pavel had focused on seeing John and Oxsana in the current moment, assuring that there was sufficient space around them, and displaying that information to Harry clearly. He put a Disillusionment Charm on them both, so they'd not be observed arriving, and keyed his own blink in to Harry's impusion. "All right son, take us when you are ready."

So Harry closed his eyes, nodded when he had himself set up, and "POOF!" the two of them appeared... or rather didn't appear, exactly... right next to Oxsana and John as they scooped snails from a tank and placed them in a small net bag.

Gently, Harry and Pavel eased their way past a table of iced seafood and appeared, quite naturally, alongside the rest of the family. "I'm here!" Harry said.

"And I'm heading back home," Pavel nodded. "Now, let me repeat, Ivan? You are responsible for Harry and for this time, he's as your son. Harry? Don't take advantage. You mind Ivan as if he were me, and if there's any funny business Ivan can treat you as he would his own boy AND you'll face me when you get home as well."

Harry just nodded with nearly an eye roll, as he said, "I know, Papa. We talked about this yesterday, and before this... and today. I've got it! I ALWAYS behave for John and Oxsana, don't I?"

"Sure thing, Papa," John spoke up. "We'll be fine, and I'm sure we'll be back on time for Lunch. You just go on and have a productive morning. We'll see you when we get back!"

Oxsana double kissed Pavel, pulling him into a tender hug, as he growled his acquiescence, and blinked discretely home.

"WHEW!" Harry breathed. "I thought he'd never leave! SO! This is Paris, huh? Aren't there supposed to be dancing girls somewhere? Come on, what's fun to do?"

John and Oxsana looked at one another and broke out in laughter. "Oh my," Oxsana said. "This trip may be more fun than we originally thought."

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I know this chapter was shorter than the last couple, but I wanted to get it up, and hopefully I'll have the next ready soon as well. Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort  
_


	21. Busman's Holiday

**Busman's Holiday**

Harry had a marvelous time wandering about the Parisian shops along the Rue de Seine, near the River. Oxsana was right about the Patisserie next door to Marcel's. They sat for a bit, sipping espresso or, in Harry's case, cappuccino au lait, and nibbling an assortment of pastries. John wouldn't let them stay long, as he was a man about a mission.

"Come along, Squirt. Places to go, things to do, shopkeepers to annoy!" he laughed. "Try to keep a bit of a low profile. Though we can use language charms to speak and understand, we're still distinctly 'foreigners' and don't want to stick out too much, draw too much attention wherever we go, eh?"

"Aw, maaan," Harry complained, just a bit. "Can't we do a LITTLE sightseeing? I've never been further than Little Whinging and Hogwarts!"

"Uh huh. Unless we count driving at 500 feet altitude from London all the way to Scotland?" John teased.

"Well, that shouldn't really count. It certainly wasn't sightseeing. We were terrified nearly the whole way," Harry retorted.

"I see. Well, I don't think today's the day to..."

"John! There's a Disneyland here now! Euro Disney just opened a few months ago in Paris! Surely we could just take a quick look? Maybe a really fast walk through, maybe one ride. Just one?!" Harry put on his most pitiful voice of petition.

"NO! Absolutely NOT!" John responded. "I don't mind taking you there sometime, but this is not the time. Seriously, Harry, we need to get these things done, then get back to Papa, OK? Work with me here." John continued.

"O... K..." Harry answered, trying to sound and look graciously disappointed. "Where to next, then?"

"Next? More fish! Ready for fish n' chips, Little Brother?" John laughed.

"Huh?" Harry looked up, confused, as John reached out to grasp one arm, as Oxsana grasped the other.

"POOF!" They had blinked together to a dark wharf with lots of activity going on. Clearly fishing boats were arriving, and leaving, and great tubs and rolling carts of ice and live fish were being bought from the boats, and wheeled up to trucks and shops nearby.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, blinking to adjust his vision to the deep night surrounded by brilliant area lights.

"This is the South Side Seaport, the Brooklyn Battery, southern end of Manhatten Island, New York City, New York. It's extremely early morning here, and right there..." John said, pointing to a brilliantly lit market behind them... "is Fulton's Fish Market. It's not QUITE open 24 hours a day, but pretty close. They're open now, for other retailers and restaurants to come select their seafood for today. These fishmongers are here this early to buy their product straight off the fishing fleet that's just come in. Want to watch a minute or two? We can, as long as we don't get in the way," he laughed. "These guys will run right over us. This isn't exactly 'tourist time'."

Harry was happy to find a comparatively quiet spot off to the side so they didn't obstruct the fast-moving deliveries. Manhatten's brilliant night time skyline, the red white and blue of the Empire State Building lights, the neons and multicolored office building lights, and the high priced high rise condos visible in the financial district just north of them, made the whole scene look like a Christmas display gone mad.

"This is the East River, Harry," John said, directing his attention northwest from where they were standing. "That's the Brooklyn Bridge there," then turning to their right, he said, "you can see Governor's Island out there in the water, and beyond that, that green statue is of course the Statue of Liberty in the distance."

"And those lights over there, beyond the Statue?" Harry asked.

"That's New Jersey. We don't need to go 'dere," John put on his best New Jersey accent. "Let's head inside so I can get our lobsters, and we can move on."

Harry and Oxsana followed John as he found a quiet entrance to the fish market, and motioned them to follow as he headed to a big tank of salt water with the live lobsters slowly walking around in it, keeping their balance against a strong current the aeration pump kept flowing through the tank.

"Holy cow!" Harry whistled. "Look at the claws on those things! Are they just... you know..." he lowered his voice... "just 'muggle' lobsters? They're not magical or anything are they?"

"No, Harry," John chuckled. "These are indeed fine specimens, but entirely natural Maine Lobsters, noted for the size and succulence of their claw meat. If I were more interested in lobster tails, we'd be heading further south to acquire our groceries." With this, John conducted some business with the fish monger, selecting the 10 lobsters he wanted, having their claws banded for safety, and seeing them safely stored in a cooler he bought for the purpose. They thanked the helpers, and rolled away with their cart and extendable handle, turning some corners to be entirely private. John then called Misha to him, instructing that their goods be taken home and stored properly until their return.

"What's next on the agenda?" Harry asked.

"Egypt for just a few minutes. There's a marketplace on the outskirts of Cairo where the most scrumptious dates ever are for sale." John answered. Again, he and Oxsana took Harry's arms, and they blinked to their destination instantly.

"I didn't know you could side-along blink," Harry said in some wonder. "How does that work?"

"Pretty much the same way as an individual blink, but you have to envision all of you going there. When you construct the imago, instead of just seeing yourself in the new place, you see both of you in the new place, and when you 'push', you push hard enough to envelop the other person. That probably doesn't make sense, does it?"

"No... I think it does. I think I get it. May I try it with one of you?" Harry asked, making John just shake his head at the way Harry interacted with magic and soaked it up.

"Sure, come over here..." John indicated, walking them to an alleyway where no one could observe them. "Here. Oxsana wait here a minute. Harry, take my arm and try to blink you and me over there down the way, where you see that red awning."

"OK," Harry complied, taking a moment to get a clear view of where he wanted to go, then closing his eyes and envisioning himself with John right beside him, materializing near that awning, then doing that "gut-push" thing he did with he blinked. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes, there they were together right where he'd intended. "Wicked!" he breathed, in delight. "Now let me take us back!" and so he did, as they arrived perfectly, right next to Oxsana. "Thanks, John! That's awesome!"

"Fine, now let's go get our dates, eh?" John led the way through the morning market, filled with hawksters bidding them come buy every variety of fruit, vegetable, smoked meat, sausage, basket, scarf, or jewelry imaginable. Language charm applied again let them understand everything said, though Harry was hard pressed to understand John as he dickered at an extremely fast pace, over the price of his dates.

John finally seemed satisfied, as he wished the seller a blessed day, and victoriously marched off with his two kilo bag of fine Egyptian dates. Once they'd rounded another corner out of sight, John reduced the bag and stuck it in his pocket.

"Right, it's almost 11 o'clock at home now. We'll just have enough time to head off to Hawaii. It's still 'last night' there, but I know some 24 hour Farmer's Markets where we can find exactly what I'm looking for. Here we go! -"

But Harry broke contact and interrupted. "Hold on a second? May I try? I've never blinked that far before. May I see if you show me the exact place you want to land, let me see if I can blink the two of you there? If I mess up, you guys and fix it or keep me safe or whatever. Pleeease? I'd really like to try..."

John and Oxsana looked at one another thinking about it, then traded shrugs. "Sure, I don't see why not. If you have any problem with it, or feel pressure or a headache..." Oxsana said...

"I know. I'll quit right away and let you handle it. OK? So just show me where we want to go..." Harry asked.

John gave him a very clear picture of their destination, imagining a trip on the globe starting from where they were, zooming down to the exact spot on the Island of Maui where the Farmer's Market would be. Harry kept his eyes closed until he felt confident of his spell, then breathed a bit to store up the power, then... launched...

"POOF!" There they were, precisely where they were supposed to be. Even Oxsana was a bit taken aback by Harry's casual use of such power. John decided not to make a big deal of it, just discretely shaking his head when Oxsana was going to give voice to her amazement.

"Well done, Harry. Very good job," John said, in that normal tone of approbation a teacher uses for a well completed assignment. "Now... let's see about those mangoes, eh?" So saying, John wandered happily among the vendors, selecting mangoes, some plums, a pineapple or two, and even a couple coconuts. "They'll look nice in fruit basket..." he said, as Oxsana and Harry giggled together at his choice. "Right then," he said, again shrinking the bags of his booty for pocket storage. "We've still got 15 minutes to spare, so... Harry? Want to see how the other 'snow-free' half lives? Grab on!"

Next thing you know, the three of them were standing outside the Royal Hawaiian Hotel at Waikiki Beach, Honolulu, Hawaii. John courteously helped Oxsana off with her winter coat, as he and Harry stripped down a bit as well, and they strolled to the beachside outdoor cafe of the hotel - open 24 hours - to sit for some cool refreshments as they watched the surf roll in off the unbelievably blue water. White sands, oiled suntanned bodies walking along the water even at this hour, beautiful foaming surf, brilliant moonshine reflecting in a silver ray off the seldom so placid Pacific... such a marked contrast to the home to which they would return in mere minutes.

"Oh my goodness," Harry said. "If it were daytime, I would so want to pull off all my clothes and jump in that water!"

"I advise against it, Little Brother. The glare from your dead white skin would probably blind half this beach. You can always spot a newly arrived Brit whether here, or the Caribbean, or Miami Beach. They arrive on day one looking albino... and by the end of day two look like a boiled lobster. Never fails. It's like they try to get a year's worth of suntan in a single day, and just burn themselves half to death. Keep your shirt on! Literally! And that's an order!" and they all laughed.

It was nice for a while to just sit and relax. They knew they were in good time not to keep Papa waiting, and the trip had been terrific from every point of view. The sound of the surf, the breeze, people laughing and children playing, and the subdued Hawaiian music coming from the cafe almost lulled Harry into a trance of sheer relaxation. It made him think of a question he'd been meaning to ask them.

"I'd like to know something..." he began.

"No unaskable questions, Squirt. What's up?" John answered.

"Why do people call Papa 'Your Grace' and that? Horsemaster Zankiw kissed Papa's ring. When I got in that fight with Stashu, and addressed Papa as such, he about fainted. Who... or rather WHAT... is Papa?"

"Ah, that..." John looked down a bit uncomfortably. "Well, um... yeah. Papa is sort of like... sort of like the Mayor. He's the 'guy in charge' for a large estate. He governs a large part of, particularly, the Magical Community in our area. There are muggles who choose to live in our community and by our rules, so he takes care of them, too."

"Ah... so... Papa's elected? Every few years?" Harry followed up.

"Well, no. Not exactly."

"Oh. Well, was he appointed by the Ukrainian government, or something?"

"No, not exactly."

"Well, how big is the Estate, anyway? Is it like the Chalet and the Village, or the county surrounding them?"

Oxsana just shook her head chuckling, as she wondered how John was going to extricate himself from this mire.

John poked her, complaining, "You could try to HELP with this a bit, you know..."

"Oh, no, dear. I wouldn't dream of interfering between brothers," as she took another sip of her tropical drink. "You just... carry on. You're doing fine."

"Brat..." John said, under his breath. "Um, Harry, the Estate is considerable in area. It's part of our region's division of responsibility for the care and administration of Magical affairs. And I guess you can say this is by 'appointment'. It's just that it wasn't just Papa who was appointed, but our family. And it happened a very VERY long time ago. So the responsibility is hereditary. That's not too complicated, is it? So there! Oxsana!" and he barely refrained from sticking out his tongue at her.

Harry missed most of this jocular byplay, as he pondered the words. "Wait a minute, John. Hereditary? So... Papa's some sort of aristocrat or something?"

"Um, yeah. Kinda..." John nodded.

"So that means..." and Harry's head swam.

"Listen, Squirt. This is really a conversation you need to have with Papa. I don't want to get you all confused, or upset or anything. Papa handles a lot of 'government' stuff for where we live, that's all. And he does most of that work in the holidays, because he prefers teaching. He has managers and administrators that keep everything running pretty smoothly, and he only gets involved when something needs his personal decision, or when he checks on things, like he's doing in this trip. Aside from all that, let him answer your questions, OK?"

"OK, John. I'll do that. You've got me curious now."

At this, John rolled his eyes, checked their beverage glasses to see they were all about finished, left some American money on the table to cover their tab, and said, "Let's head home, then."

Together, they found a quiet deserted corner of the hotel lobby, and dropped hands, agreeing to blink to the Chalet's kitchen each on their own. Harry materialized right where he should, at the same time they did.

"Excellent!" John approved. "Papa! We're HOME!" he called out, pulling out his packages of fruit, as Misha appeared to relieve him of his burdens. "Thank you, Misha!"

"You're welcome, Master," the elf smiled, as John gave him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

* * *

Pavel walked in to meet and greet them, accepting Oxsana's hug and double kiss, and a hug around the waist from Harry, as he laughed, saying, "Well, I take it your hunt was successful and you've all had an excellent morning!"

"Indeed, Papa. And nobody even got lost in New York City, this time," John shared, as he took his and Oxsana's cloaks, hanging them up in the Mud Room.

"It was SUPER, Papa! They were throwing fish, and we had drinks on Waikiki Beach, and we could see the Eiffel Tower, and the Empire State Building, and camels... and everything!" Harry gushed.

"Not all that from Waikiki Beach, I hope," Pavel laughed at how excited Harry was. It warmed his heart so much to see this erstwhile orphan now so happy with his family.

"Of COURSE not! Don't be silly, Papa!" Harry knew he was being teased.

"Well, I don't know whether we should go out again, or if you need a nap! Sounds like you'd be played out by now." Pavel mused.

"NAP? You're just kidding me, right? I'm WAY to old for a nap!" Harry protested, unsure whether Pavel was serious or not.

Pavel had decided when they came for this holiday, to withdraw the constant monitoring he normally maintained over Harry when they were at Hogwarts. He wanted Harry to have the freedom of his own privacy, especially while they were here where Pavel considered the environment "safe and protected". That's why the scrap with Stashu went unnoticed until the sound of it had reached them. Unless Harry consciously reached out for him, he was determined not to check up on the boy. Between servants, John and Oxsana, and the care of Dobby over him, Pavel considered he was well monitored until they returned to school. He had shared that this was his plan as they prepared to come, so...

"Harry, I'd like your permission to check on you for a moment, to make sure you're not too tired for what I plan this afternoon. All right?"

"All right, Papa," Harry sighed indulgently, daring just the slightest of eyerolls, feeling like he was being babied.

Pavel extended his net over Harry, finding that he was indeed a bit more tired than would otherwise be appropriate for Noon. But he was equally "jazzed" and excited at all the new activity. So trying to make him stay home to rest would be a complete waste of effort.

"All right then. You seem fine. I've only one more question. How is your backside? I plan on considerable broom riding, and if that's uncomfortable, I need to know," as Pavel planted a playful but firm swat on the seat of Harry's pants, looking for any sign of flinching or wincing.

"I'm FINE, Papa. Although..." Harry's face took on a bit of a calculating expression, "if I said I still hurt, would it mean you might strike a little lighter next time?" Harry looked hopeful.

"Not a chance, my son. It would only mean you might need some grounding the next day to recover."

"Pfft. Of course, you would say that. No, sir. I'm fine. Dobby checked on that first thing this morning," he laughed.

"Of course he did," Pavel nodded. "All right then, if no one has further need of us... let me get my outer robe and cloak on, and we'll get our brooms. Ivan? Oxsana? Anything I can do?"

"No, sir. We'll be fine here. You just go ahead and have fun." _John added through mind-speak, "Harry's been asking some uncomfortable - to me - questions regarding your rank and role here. It may be time to 'fess up, maybe have lunch at the Manor."_

 _"Hmmm. You may be right. I know I've been putting it off, but it won't be possible for very much longer. All right. I'll try to talk to him about all that today. What does he know so far?"_

John showed him the memory of that part of their discussion as the old man donned his outerwear. Pavel understood.

"Come along then, Harry. Are you feeling very hungry, or shall we fly and tour a bit first?" Pavel asked, as he and Harry took their brooms from a rack in the Mud Room and headed outside.

"I'm not too hungry yet. We didn't have breakfast that early, and I just had a sweet fruit drink with John and Oxsana a few minutes ago."

"All righty then," Pavel answered, putting his hands on each of Harry's shoulders, casting a charm that would keep him warm in the face and ears, and on the inside of his clothes, even as the outside remained cold so they didn't melt everything they touched. "Let's start with this property and the local village."

Papa kicked off as Harry followed, and they turned lazy spirals up from the Chalet.

From up here, Harry could see that there were many outbuildings to the complex. The Gasthausen had another bungalow hedged off from the others, that Pavel said could house elves to care for the Gasthausen when they were occupied. As they turned towards the Bunk House and Woodshed, they saw a number of roads, walkways, and equipment sheds, along with greenhouses and nurseries for a variety of plants, both magical and mundane.

Further on, it was clear that the Mews was a very large complex of five different buildings. The barn he had been inside was only the front one. There were two other buildings just as large and then two very large, very tall barn like structures to the back of the wide center space that divided them all. Harry asked what these other buildings were, and Pavel just smiled saying it was a surprise for now.

Together they rode leisurely towards the village, bathed in snow and twinkling lights, looking for all the world like a Currier and Ives Christmas card. Rather than heading right for the Pub however, Pavel led them off circling the outskirts of the village, surrounded by farms and ranches, so that Harry could sense this was a good sized village with several shops, businesses, services, a municipal building, a couple churches and chapels, and even a school within. Clearly many of the structures were the houses of townsfolk, often attached to a shop or store.

Near the center of town, torches and lanterns decorated the fence and garden of the Whistling Teapot Cafe. Pavel pointed down to the eatery and asked, "Would you rather have lunch there, or should we fly to a different home of ours, the Manor, and luncheon there instead?"

This offer piqued Harry's curiosity and he wasn't really that hungry yet, so he asked, "Is it far, Papa?"

"Pretty far, yes, but if you like, we can fly as fast as we can," which brought a huge smile to Harry's face. "It's not very often you have the space to do that. What say?"

"That sounds terrific, Papa. Let's go for it." Harry answered.

"OK. It will take us about half an hour to get there. We will fly about 30 miles south. You will see a large old-looking Castle. Muggles see a rather well-to-do house, unless they are of the Magic Community here, where they'll see the Castle as well. We call it, simply the Manor. There will be a number of outbuildings. You will see banners flying from the tallest tower. My banner will be raised as we speak, and it will be lit so that you can see it from afar. That will help you navigate once we are close enough. Feel free, Harry, if you can 'blink forward' in your flight to accelerate even beyond your straight flying, go ahead. I shall follow. If you stray off course, I will tell you. Now... make your 'best available time' by whatever means, to the Manor."

"Papa, can you put an extremely clear picture of what I will see when we are close, in my head for me? I want to see if I can blink to it."

"I can and I shall, but be cautious. If you succeed in blinking while in broom flight, you may not be in flight when you arrive. So hold the broom securely and be ready to resume flight, all right?"

"I understand. OK, show me what I should see, please."

Pavel did so, imagining them flying out from a cloud about two miles from the Manor, at an altitude of 3000 feet or so. They were cruising at that altitude, under a mild disillusionment charm that made them effectively invisible from more than 40 feet away, just so they could conveniently see one another, and birds or wildlife up close could see them, without disturbing any observers from the ground.

"OK, Papa. I'm going to try blinking there now, so here goes."

"All right, son. I've got your back."

To Pavel's astonishment, Harry blinked perfectly forward the 30 miles in smooth flight without so much as a stutter. Harry stopped to hover in mid air until Pavel caught up, looking at the beautiful white stone architecture that resembled nothing so much as the Cindarella Castle Harry had seen in brochures of Disney Theme Parks. Crenelated towers, flying buttresses, pennants, even an honest to goodness drawbridge and moat.

"Seriously, Papa? Drawbridge and moat? Really? Isn't that just a little bit cliche?" Harry was holding to let Pavel lead, in case there were wards or barriers that had to be cleared for them to enter.

"One, the drawbridge and moat were constructed before the architecture WAS cliche, and two, cliches of defensive fortifications are normally there for very practical reasons! Besides, we keep trout in the moat!" Pavel laughed. "Follow me," he ordered, as Harry parked his broom immediately behind Pavel's and Pavel drew his wand. He aimed a beam of light ahead of him, as he descended towards the center courtyard inside the drawbridge. Inside those ramparts a huge and lovely lawn, landscaped with hedges, trees and low walls defining fountains, with a great paved roadway and circular pavement approached the entrance doors.

As they approached the ground, Harry actually heard trumpets play a fanfare from some balcony above the courtyard. This was accompanied by banners being raised above two of the towers, and an orderly file of footmen and retainers march from the entrance doors to line up along the steps of the entranceway. A tall gray haired man in formal livery followed the retainers, walking down the steps to greet them.

Harry followed Pavel, each holding their brooms, as they slowly mounted the meticulously clean stone stairway, as the older man approached them smiling broadly.

"Welcome home, Your Grace!" he said, with a true tone of delight.

"Thank you, Mikhael! I apologize for so little notice. I hope I've not disrupted your routine unduly," Pavel smiled in return, extending his hand to shake.

"Pah, Your Grace. We endeavor always to be ready to welcome you. It's a poor Steward indeed, who does not rejoice in the visit of his leige lord. 'Tis your house, after all," he said, briefly shaking Pavel's hand, but finishing with a bow and short kiss of his signet ring.

"Mikhael, may I present my apprentice, son and heir, of whom I have written earlier... this is Harry Potter," as Pavel stepped aside to place one hand on Harry's shoulder as he was introduced. "Harry, this is our Steward of the Manor, Mikhael Marczuk. Please heed any advice or instructions he gives you, he is responsible for the care and management of this house on a day to day basis, and he is MOST organized. You and I will make every effort not to make that any more difficult than it already is, yes?"

"Yes, Papa, by all means. Very pleased to meet you, sir. The Manor looks gorgeous. You must work very hard keeping it so," Harry complimented, shaking the old man's hand and rendering a short bow.

"Thank you, young master," the Steward said, flashing a knowing and appreciative smile at Pavel. "I shall extend your compliments to the staff. It is they who do all the work, and I know they will be pleased at your observation. Please enter, gentlemen."

"Just one more moment, Master Steward, if you don't mind..." Pavel said, as he walked briskly to the far end of the staff line, and then strolled back again, inspecting the liveried servants with a practiced eye. He stood before them for a moment and said, "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for turning out to greet us even in such cold, and keeping your appearance and courtesy at a standard that does you and this noble house proud." With this he clicked his heels together and gave a short bow that Harry had learned to interpret as a "salute", before turning on his heel to accompany Harry into the entrance.

Behind them, trooped the staff, now scattering to their various duties, as the Steward helped them off with their cloaks, handing those and their brooms off to two footmen who stood discretely by, waiting. As Harry turned around to look through the foyer to the main part of the house before him, he was dumbstruck by the gilt, crystal chandeliers, brass sconces, suits of armor and arms on the wall, marble polished floors and columns, with rich supporting timbers or oaken columns along the outer walls. The obligatory roaring open hearth fireplace blazed merrily in this "First Sitting Room" or whatever it was, furnished rather like a parlor or sitting room, as Pavel led the way through to a warmer, carpeted drawing room. Harry felt like he'd fallen out of the world into some fairy tale.

As they sat down in comfortable chairs and Papa ordered some tea and cocoa, while luncheon was being prepared for them, Harry said, "OK, let me get this straight, Papa. THIS... all of THIS... is our... HOUSE? This is ONE of your residences?"

Pavel watched as Steward Marczuk poured tea for Papa and hot chocolate for him. "Yes, son, that's correct. This is our primary residence, our hereditary seat."

"OK... Papa?"

"Yes, son?"

"I think it's time we talk. Just exactly who... or what... ARE YOU?"

"Ah, that. Yes. I agree, it's time we talk..."

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	22. Pavel's Coming Out Party

**Pavel's Coming Out Party**

"Harry, this is a conversation that we must have, yes. But to be truthful I have tried to delay it as long as I could," Pavel began. "The reason I've procrastinated may strike you as a bit ironic."

"What's the matter, Papa?" Harry asked with concern. He knew this was really bothering Pavel, and he didn't know why or how to help.

"You want, above all else, just to be a 'normal boy'... a boy who lives... nothing special or noteworthy. Thus far, to some extent I've been able to make that happen. One reason I can do so is that I have access to an extraordinary degree of power. In that sense, I've never pretended to you that I am 'normal' or 'average'. You know that, right?"

"Yes, Papa. That's frankly what drew me to you in the first place. I knew, somehow without knowing how I knew, that you were different. That you could teach me what I wanted to know. About magic, yes... but about lots of other stuff, too. I can't explain this, but you're the 'right father' for me. Besides, anywhere you go, people... even people who've never met you... treat you 'differently', more respectfully than otherwise."

"Well, Harry, the reason I've not wanted to share everything about me or our background is that we, this family, isn't entirely 'normal' either. You are destined, and have agreed, to become heir to this house, this family, and that is simply 'right'. And, if all goes properly, I shall guide and teach you how to do that aright. But I, myself, was no more a 'normal boy' than you are. And I've not wanted to draw you into the fullness of that any sooner than absolutely necessary."

"Papa, all this sounds like some vague sort of apology. I don't feel offended so I don't know what you've done 'wrong'. All I want to know is..."

"I know, son," Pavel raised his palm to stem the flow of Harry's words and took a deep breath. "You asked Ivan if I am, if we are, 'aristocracy'. Yes, Harry, we are. I am the reigning... you would think of it as 'Duke' of House Konstantyn. Our family history goes back to 812, when this house was elevated to the peerage of the Holy Roman Empire, and our forebear was granted the title Reichherzog... a 'prince' not of the imperial line, but with a seat on the Imperial council." Pavel dared a twisted smile as he said, "I assure you, over time you will learn this history quite thoroughly, but don't worry about it for now."

"It's just that, over time, the governance of the Magical community and the muggle community have become ever more estranged. Feudalism, the form of government that dominated the world for centuries, was ultimately replaced by more democratic forms among muggle communities. Representational government is far more conducive to peace... to resisting war and expansionism by violence. The "Strong Leader" forms of government, whether monarchy, imperialism, feudalism, or dictatorship, are more prone to violence and military action. Does this make sense? Again, I don't want to deliver a history lecture here, but can you see the truth of this with what you already know?"

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, Papa. Both magical and muggle history would bear that out."

"Good. Well, we're almost home then. Magicians, as a group, are powerful. Vastly powerful. Vastly more powerful than muggles. That means that any single Mage of extraordinary power, or even a small coven of such mages, could destabilize the entire muggle world within a generation. SO... the Magical Community has never totally forsworn the Strong Leader model, at least not in most of the world. Certainly not here in Eastern Europe. We never shifted from feudalism to democracy."

"You ask what I am, Harry. In that question, be aware, you are also asking, as my heir, what you will be. I am a feudal lord, Harry. I am autonomous and sovereign within my demesne. There is no law higher than I, no authority beyond mine. I engage, voluntarily, with a Concilium, a Council of other such sovereigns, to maintain peace and order in our region. But, from time to time, there is violence. There may even be war. And the sovereign lord of this demesne, this Estate, must be ready and able at all times, to marshal whatever resources are necessary for the protection and preservation of our people." With this, Pavel just paused to let all this sink in.

Harry said nothing for a long while. He just stared into the fireplace, as so often he did when pondering something deep. "So... you're telling me... you're basically like... a King?"

"Like... Harry. We don't have or use the title 'King' anymore. When the last official emperor was deposed, in 1806, we all decided just to keep the titles we had, and let the muggles keep their 'Kings'. We may create alliances with them, but we don't envy or covet their titles. We know where the power truly lies, and these days such Kings and Queens are more ceremonial than authoritative."

"So..." Harry hesitated as his eyes brightened with a new thought... "Are you saying then... that I am like... a PRINCE?"

Pavel sighed deeply, "Yes, Harry, unfortunately, yes I am."

"Why unfortunately?" Harry sounded disappointed.

"Only because again it would set you apart to think of yourself this way. I don't want you feeling 'different', or 'odd', or that kind of 'special'. I want you to have the chance to grow up like any and every other little boy, just worrying about childhood then adolescent cares, not matters of politics and state!"

"Oh, OK. So it's not because I've disappointed you, or you think I'll make a bad Duke then?"

"Of course not! I am really not kidding at all when I say you've never disappointed me. And I am certain you will make an excellent Duke when the time comes. But I am NOT going to raise you to the task in the same way I was raised to it. Your abilities are unfolding at a wondrous rate. Each of those abilities, as you master them, will make your tasks and demands easier. So, I'm just not going to worry about it, for the most part, until circumstances warrant it."

"What about this trip, Papa? Things have been different this way since we arrived."

"True. This is your 'introduction' to all this. I am publicly making known that I have an heir, and giving you the opportunity to make relationships given your new circumstances and status. But other than some of the formalities, courtesy, and just a touch of the politics... we're going to try to keep all that at a minimum, and let you just continue to enjoy being a Konstantyn 'boy' rather than a Konstantyn 'prince'. OK with you?"

"Absolutely, Papa. Though..." and a mischievous smile crossed Harry's lips, "I could probably get used to being treated like a prince now and again." Harry was thinking how much crap he'd taken from some upper classmen at Hogwarts, or Dudley in Little Whinging.

"Have a care, my son. Elitism, the arrogant sense of entitlement, is a deadly trap all too easy to fall into. Your rank, your privileges, are only another word for responsibilities and duties. The day I find you using status to lord it over another, is a day you will eat supper standing up with a blazing backside. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. I hear you. But I just get so sick of Malfoy and the Slytherins and all their 'mudblood' crap! Like they're 'all that and a ham sandwich'!"

"Harry, I'm going to overlook your language to affirm that such an attitude is, indeed, beneath you and I'm delighted you recognize it for the trash it is. However, you are not their teacher nor mentor. You are not responsible for their discourtesy or misbehavior, only for your own manners. Just don't ever let such words fall from your OWN lips, and leave us to train your contemporaries, eh?"

"Yes, sir." Harry surrendered, morosely.

Steward Mikhael then entered the room to announce, "Luncheon is served, sirs."

"May I ask a favor, Mikhael?" Pavel lowered his voice to a conspiratorial sotto voce.

"Anything, Your Grace. You needn't ask!" the Steward replied in like tones.

"May we PLEASE eat in the Kitchen with the Staff? I know they love when we use the formal dining room, but really... for just the two of us... I really think that's overblown. And besides, I'm sure Harry would like to meet everyone, and I'm sure they'd like to meet him, too. Would you please ask them for permission?"

"Of course, Your Grace," Mikhael bowed to leave.

"Ach! Stop!" Pavel barked. Mikhael stopped and turned back round. "I mean it, dear friend. ASK them, don't order them. I don't want to put them off their meal either. This really is a favor," he smiled. "We can live with the Dining Room if it makes them more comfortable."

"Yes, Your Grace," Mikhael laughed. "I shall merely ASK, I promise!" as he bowed and turned away.

Returning a few minutes later, "Gentle Masters, would you kindly do us the honor of dining with us below stairs in the Kichens?"

"Thank you, Mikhael. Our pleasure!"

Harry had a grand time, once they got past the first ten awkward minutes, as he and Pavel told stories of Hogwarts, and Quidditch snitches, and exploding cauldrons, and detentions, and Dobby... and after a fairly short time everyone forgot who they were, and all laughed and talked like old friends. The meal flew by wonderfully.

* * *

After lunch, Papa and he excused themselves from the table and delightful company, and went to Papa's Study here. Again, there was the familiar family crest, the fireplace, the sitting area, bookshelves, wardrobe, and huge desk with comfortable chairs. On one of the walls was a map showing most all of Eastern Europe from Moscow in the East to France in the West. Pavel waved his hand, and a large swath covering much of Ukraine, part of Poland and just a touch of Moldavia lit up glowing golden.

"This, Harry, is the bulk of the Estate. There are various other spots here and there..." Harry watched small pools of golden glow light up through Germany, some in Russia, and even one just north of Greece... "that are also in my demesne, from various battles won."

"Battles won? You mean you've gone to war, Papa?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Sort of," Pavel sighed. "I have not 'declared war' for our fief in the way you're thinking. But I am, or have been, an enforcement officer commissioned from time to time to exact justice upon a rogue leader or lord. In such cases, in that we are fundamentally feudal, 'to the victor go the spoils'. When I have defeated a criminal enemy, their holdings go partially to the Concilium, and partially to me."

"Do you kill or destroy all your enemy's followers, Papa? When you do this?"

"Not if they will swear to abide by the rulings of the Concilium, and or myself. Most typically there will be a sycophantic group of fanatics surrounding a demogogue. They will not 'surrender' or 'go peacefully', and usually fight to the death. But, if there is a reasonable administration in place, I can appoint a Senschal, an Administrator, to see to the welfare of the manor and represent my interests. They are then left in peace, as part of my Estate, and we care for them as diligently as any other part of the Estate."

Harry asked, "What does the Estate do, Papa? I mean, how does it survive, make money, live in the world? And how do we 'care for them'?"

"Good questions, Harry. Think of the Estate as a really really big piece of property. We have timber, livestock, agriculture. There are factories, shops, schools, hospitals, other businesses, highways, rivers, transportation. Some people, MANY people, in fact, simply operate their own businesses as they see fit. The administration provides schools, health care, security, peacekeeping, banking, waste disposal, utilities, transportation... basically all the public services you would ordinarily think of being provided in England by the government and councils."

"That sounds really REALLY complicated, Papa!" Harry said, reeling from the thought that he may one day be expected to keep track of all this.

"It is, my son, which is why each task is overseen by someone who has become expert at it, and enjoys the job they do. I rely on such people to represent our interests and care for their people at the same time. Think of... say... Horsemaster Zankiw. NO ONE knows his job and responsibilities better than he does. He is, of course, constantly training his own replacements, but he absolutely loves what he does and performs the task with excellence. He is a Bondsman, he swore personal allegiance in his early manhood, to my father's service as head of our house. We have sworn together to care for one another as kin, and nothing will break that bond. Steward Mikhael is another Bondsman. He is entrusted, totally and entirely, with responsbility for this Manor, her personnel, and her contents. He would give his life to protect her, and I would give my life to protect him. This entire Estate 'works' because of voluntary covenants, bonds of love and trust between 'the people', and 'me'... or now, 'us'... you and me.

"Tell you what, Harry. late tomorrow morning I have some meetings scheduled with some of our administrators to go over some routine reports. How about you come with me and sit in? You need not say anything, nor even 'understand' much. But it should give you some context for interpreting all this new material?"

"That would be excellent, Papa. I'd love to see you at work with this!"

"Fine, then. We'll make it so..."

And just at this moment, Pavel could hear a new arrival being ushered in to the Foyer. A moment later, another older gentleman stood at the open door of the Study, waiting politely to be recognized.

"Anatoliy Vasylykk, beloved Seneschal, as brother to me, come in, come in, and please meet Harry Potter, my apprentice, and heir," Pavel strode rapidly towards the man at the door, taking him by both arms and kissing him on each cheek with a real display of delight.

"Come! Come, Harry, shake hands with this man who will care for you as deeply as Ivan or I will, for the rest of our lives!"

Harry hurried to shake hands and bow briefly to the man, smiling uncertain of what, if anything, to say.

"Please forgive me for disturbing your afternoon so unexpectedly, Your Grace," the Seneschal said, with a real air of distress. "I had not planned to interrupt you in this holiday."

"Think nothing of it, Brother Anatoliy! I looked forward to see you tomorrow anyway. But what brings you at the present time? I did not even intend to be here today!" Pavel led the way to seats near the fireplace.

"I know, Your Grace. It's just that the afternoon post brought this unexpected missive and I felt it should get to your hands as soon as possible. I sent word to the Chalet and they informed me that you were here, so I came personally."

Pavel could hear the strain in his old friend's voice. His brows knitted as he held out his hand for the envelope in question. As he took it in hand he was a bit confused. This was only an RSVP from some guest they had invited to the upcoming Yule Ball the Estate put on at the Manor every December. Why should a simple invitation acceptance cause his chief administrator such consternation?

Pavel opened the envelope and looked at the enclosed note.

Harry then saw something he thought could not happen. The blood seemed to drain from Pavel's face in concern and shock.

Nothing moved for long seconds, until Pavel said, "Is this possible? They've not accepted the invitation, nor we theirs, in five decades. This is most disturbing."

"Indeed, Your Grace. What would you have me do?" the Seneschal asked.

"Nothing different, old friend. I shall take things from here. I'll increase security and our intelligence gathering a bit. I will talk to Ivan right away, and if we need anything more I'll let you know immediately. Thank you so much for bringing this to me right away."

"Your servant, Your Grace!" the old man said, rising with a bow to take his leave.

Harry rose when he stood, as he was his elder. Harry wasn't sure of the protocols of such things, but he knew, with Pavel, he'd never be criticized for excessive courtesy. In fact, Pavel rose as well, and gave Harry a hug around the shoulders of approval, smiling with pride at his gesture.

When the Seneschal had left, Harry asked, "Papa, what's wrong? Clearly, something is the matter. What's up?"

"I'll talk about it in a few minutes, Harry. Honest. Right now I need simply to think, and I think I'll ask Ivan and Oxsana to join us here for a few minutes. We need to talk... all together. I need a few moments, and you can either sit here, or wander about the house or grounds as you please. Just don't leave the grounds, obviously. But I can call when we're ready to talk if you want to wander. OK?"

"OK, Papa. Just... well, don't take TOO long, ok?"

"All right, son," Pavel smiled. "Don't worry, everything is fine."

"OK," Harry said, not believing a word of it, as he headed out to explore a bit. Looking back as he left the Study, he saw his father, unmoving, seated at his desk staring straight into the fire.

A few minutes later, Harry heard John mind-speaking, _"Hey, Squirt. Come on back and join us. Oxsana and I are here, and Papa'd like you to join us in the Study."_

 _"OK, on my way, John. What the heck is wrong, anyway? Papa's acting all weird."_

 _"I don't know for sure yet, he wants to wait til you get here so he doesn't have to speak twice, so... hurry up!"_

In less than a minute, Harry ran up to the Study door, then slowed to a walk to enter "properly" as Papa would call it.

"Thank you all for being here so promptly. We need just a bit of discussion on a matter of importance." With this, Pavel handed the mysterious envelope to John, who opened it so he and Oxsana could both see it. Again, Harry saw the color drain from a Constantine face.

Finally Harry said, "May I see that?"

"Sure thing, Harry," John said, passing it over.

He looked, and saw nothing but a typical professionally printed card in elegant script announcing the the Count and Contessa Vasilyi Alexandrescu would be honored to attend the Annual Yule Ball at Cedar Crest Manor with their son, the Viscount Basil Alexandrescu." It seemed nothing could be more commonplace, than this simple courtesy card.

"Papa, what's the matter here?" he asked.

"No, Papa... just... just... no! I know what you're thinking," John jumped to his feet and started pacing. "There's no way. He's not going. I don't know what's going on here, or why they're coming, or why he's wakened. But you're thinking Harry has to go to the Ball. You can't... you can't possibly expose him like that! There has to be another way. I'll take his place!"

Harry thought Pavel would have exploded to be spoken to that way. Generally speaking, defiance wasn't tolerated, even from John. But Pavel only looked pained, not angry.

"I understand your feelings, Ivan. Truly... I do... but do you have an alternative? Can you suggest any viable plan that does not place Harry in more danger? Think about it. If Harry does not go, then we send a very mixed message about his legitimacy and our commitment to protect and support him. We undercut Harry before he's even found his feet. Besides, it is not like Harry would have to interact much," said Pavel, in his most conciliatory tone.

"Interact much? What are you TALKING about! I don't want to see Harry 'interacting' AT ALL! I don't want to see him even vaguely EXPOSED to those... those... 'people'. I struggle even to call them that!"

"Ivan! Don't go there." Pavel rapped in his warning tone.

"Sorry, sir. But there's no way you could allow this. Please, Papa!" Ivan petitioned.

"Excuse me!" Harry interjected, "but it seems since I'm the point at issue here, what's the problem? What are you talking about?"

Pavel answered, "Count Alexandrescu holds the estate east of mine. In past... centuries... there has been periodic... conflict between us. The Count is older now, calmer and a bit less... acquisitive than he was in the past. He and we keep the peace by being good neighbors, from a distance. As a matter of courtesy, both he and I invite one another to social obligations. Equally as a matter of courtesy, he and I both... ALWAYS... decline attending. It.. keeps the peace. But recently he had adopted a son and heir with some... ambitions. That son has been 'resting' for a long long time, and so there has been no problem. This RSVP informs us that they all intend to come here in December. Clearly they have heard of your existence and presence, and want to 'check you out' so to speak. This is disturbing... to Ivan." After a brief pause, "All right. It is disturbing to me, too."

"I see. Well, guys, how about a little confidence here," Harry protested. "I mean, what are you so afraid of? I won't mess up THAT bad if I go to this 'Ball'. I mean, what? It's just some protocol and manners stuff, right? What's the big deal?"

"My dear baby brother, you misunderstand entirely. We're not afraid of you doing something wrong. These 'people' are Vampires... full blown... classical... Vampires. Viscount Basil has been in torpor for 50 years, settling his powers and abilities before trying to contest Papa or me for the territory he covets. My 'worry' here isn't what YOU do. It's that I'm certain from the moment he enters this house, his dearest wish will be to find some way to kill you, bringing him that much more advantage, before you come into the fullness of your own powers."

"Oh," Harry said, a bit abashed. "That's different then."

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	23. A Holiday Revised

**A Holiday Revised**

Silence descended on the family, as everyone pondered the situation and possible strategies to meet it. A small, gentle, elderly house elf silently entered and stood at the doorway politely awaiting recognition.

Pavel looked his way in a few moments, smiled, and said, "Denys, kind elf, what is it?"

"Your pardon, Your Grace. Would you or your guests care for refreshment?" he bowed.

"That would be fine, Denys. Perhaps some tea, cocoa, and biscuits." Pavel looked round at the rest of the family, "Anything else anyone would like?"

"Papa, you know those little rolled up biscuits with the nuts and honey in the center?" Harry ventured.

"I do, son, certainly..." and Pavel looked at Denys who nodded his understanding. "Thank you. That would be fine."

The little elf, in full butler's livery, silently left the room.

Harry hadn't wanted to disturb anyone's thinking with his comments or questions, so he just waited for the mood, the atmosphere of the room, to lighten.

At last, Papa rose saying aloud, "Denys, please bring our refreshments to the Drawing Room. We shall be more comfortable there," as he led the way out the door to the hallway, then right about a quarter of the way down the hall, to turn right again into another very comfortable room dominated by three sofas surrounding a coffee table, facing another roaring hearth. Sideboards lay along the two side walls. One sported glasses, tumblers, wineglasses, and spirits, while the other held cups, saucers, and space for cream, sugar, and tealights to keep pots warm. Armchairs also dotted the room, with side tables and lamps conveniently placed.

Just moments after their arrival, Denys entered carrying a tray nearly as long as he was tall, that he adroitly lay down on the coffee table. He paused, wondering if he should pour, but Oxsana thanked him and said she would play mother, so he discretely withdrew.

"Well, children, here's what I think," Pavel began, as he accepted his teacup from Oxsana. "I think we do not yet have enough information to work with. Of one thing I am certain. There is no way the Count would risk war by allowing an attack on any of this household at the Ball. I've now run the scenario over 150 ways, and every iteration ends in the Count's destruction before leaving this property. It does not matter how ambitious the Viscount Basil may be, or even how rash. Count Vasilyi will not allow his son to destroy his dynasty by so ill-advised an attack. Whatever is happening, it has to be more subtle than that. Do you disagree, Ivan?"

"No, Father. I concur," he turned to his fiancee, "Oxsana? What do you think?"

"I understand everyone's anxiety here. The risk analysis sucks," she winced. "Sorry, Papa Pavel. But I grant the risk is so high with such an unknown quantity as Viscount Basil... it is hard to have any confidence in prediction. At the same time, Count Vasilyi is anything BUT an unknown quantity. He is absolutely slavish in his dedication to legalism, predictability, and order. It seems ironic to say, but aside from the three of us... as far as the Ball is concerned, I suspect Count Vasilyi is Harry's greatest protection. I believe he would slay Basil instantly should any attempt be made not in keeping with the rules of honor or chivalry. The only problems we have EVER had with the Count, for the past 30 years, at least, have been in terms of his rigor and stringency, severity even, in enforcing the law and rules of honor and courtesy. He makes no allowances at all for error, poor judgment, youth, chemical impairment, or anything else. Violate his laws and you will meet his punishments, no exceptions, no mitigations.

"Perhaps that is an observation that could be helpful. If there is some way without giving offense to have him give his word that Harry will be under HIS protection, as well as ours... Well, I pity the fool that tried to hurt our little brother. He'd sooner slay Basil where he stood, than see his honor stained," Oxsana concluded.

"A very valuable observation, indeed, little one. I thank you for it. Perhaps I shall see if there is some opportunity for he and I to take a stroll together and chat in the next few days. Certainly his sudden decision to accept this invitation may give us good reason to meet," Pavel mused.

"Well then!" Pavel began, in an entirely more cheerful tone. "Thank you both so much for coming and humoring this old man in his moment of concern. We shall research a bit more, see what more can be done, and then make a plan to cover the situation. None of which must be done at this moment. I am a man on a mission, and a schedule. This is Harry's time with me, and I apologize, my son, for dragging your playtime with me into the 'family business'. 'Twas not my intention."

"Oh, that's all right, Papa. Before he came you were just explaining to me how I'm really a 'prince'," Harry teased.

"HA!" John barked. "Don't go getting that idea stuck in your head, little man! That can lead to some very painful consequences!" John laughed.

Harry looked confused, "How so? I don't get it!"

"No, you wouldn't, Harry!" Pavel laughed. "Ivan, you don't understand. Harry is not likely ever to have the same struggles with this that you did, since he was raised totally outside this aristocratic bubble. Harry has a humility born of his lifetime experiences so far, and appreciation of the people and circumstances that now surround him, that I believe will immunize him from the 'sense of entitlement' that you struggled with. Of course, some of this will depend on the extent to which any of this becomes public at Hogwarts, and the peer group that surrounds him."

John laughed. "All I know, Papa, is that any time I started feeling like 'Little Lord Fauntle-John' I wound up standing to supper. At least if I showed it at home. At school? Not so much."

Pavel laughed with the recollection, "It was school, and your circle of friends, that GOT you in trouble in the first place. I think, however, that you learned a bit of discretion with the Soccer fiasco... did you not?"

"You WOULD remember that, of course," John shook his head with a rueful tone.

"And you do NOT?" Pavel chuckled with raised eyebrows.

Both Harry and Oxsana were now all ears, sensing a story in the offing that John seemed to want left untold.

"Pray, what is this 'Soccer fiasco'? I've never heard of it," she prompted, sipping her tea with a coquettish smile.

John just groaned, determined to tell the story for himself, trying to put a more favorable spin to it than Pavel was likely to do. "It wasn't my FAULT! The situation was totally UNFAIR and Papa just flew off the handle!"

"Hmmm hmmmm," Pavel cleared his throat, as he reached for another biscuit. "Tell the truth, my son. Lest I tell the bare facts myself, and you risk violating a cardinal rule against lying here and now!"

"Argh! OK, it's really quite simple. I was still quite young, only 9 I think. It was springtime, and we were living at the Chalet where I went to the Village primary school with all the other children of the area. Well, I was in the local Soccer... like club football... league. We were all too young for competitve Quidditch... Papa felt - we didn't agree of course. But as we children were a mixed lot of magical and muggle youngsters, the village youth leagues sponsored a number of traditionally muggle sports."

"Get on with it, son," Pavel encouraged.

"Anyway, Papa made it a point, ALWAYS, to attend all my games. Weather didn't matter, sport didn't matter, he always came," John smiled as he reflected quietly. "Of course, I had no idea how difficult that was to do with his work, and didn't appreciate it nearly enough, but I could just count on him always being there. Sometimes, mother attended as well. And," John laughed, looking at Harry and dropping his voice to a near whisper, "you won't believe this, Harry, but Papa would be in casual clothes. Not jeans, never jeans - I don't think he owns any. But sport slacks and the wizarding equivalent of a polo shirt, NO WAISTCOAT! When he was seated among the parents he was just 'another parent', he didn't want to be thought of as... well, you now know... The Duke. He anonymously sponsored all the recreational activities, not just our league but all the leagues and teams on the Estate... including our competitors. Officials volunteered their time, as did coaches. He encouraged people to call him 'Pavel' if they could bear it, though most could only manage 'Dr.', 'Professor', or 'Sir',... which he would also accept. He simply refused to be addressed as 'my lord', or 'your grace', unless he were formally or professionally dressed."

Pavel interrupted, "In those brief moments, for just those few years, I wanted only to be a father watching my boy play! I hated seeing people stiffen or hear conversation hush when I 'got too close to them'. It took a season or two, but eventually it worked. Other parents just knew I was there as 'parent', nothing more. It was glorious! Until..."

"All right, all right, I'm getting to that part..." John protested. "Anyway, I had a bunch of friends, both in school and sports, who'd been telling me what an idiot I was to put up with any crap or fuss in school or in the streets, since I was a Duke, too. They got to calling me 'milord', and bowing and stuff, just that we were having fun, you know? And it sort of got in my head. I realized that it was true! When Papa and I, or the whole family, were dressed up and at some formal function, people DID call me 'young Duke', or 'Viscount', or bow to me. For Papa, those courtesies depended on the role we were playing at a given moment, what we were doing. What my friends were showing me was that had nothing to do with it. All the mattered was 'who you were', or in this case 'who, or what, I AM'. Everyone around me were 'vassals', and we did some library research in our free time, to check out feudalism and various 'rights of the lord'. You may enjoy check..."

"Enough of that!" Pavel barked, interrupting John. "Harry will learn all he needs to of the _'droit du seigneur'_ when I cover it in history class, Ivan. An entirely apocryphal law, by the way, young sirs!"

Harry was a bit confused, as John continued.

"Never mind about that, Harry," John laughed. "Suffice it to say, I'd begun to realize that I was 'Viscount Ivan, Son of the Duke' of our estate. And that meant I was entitled to certain rights, and respect. And I wasn't being 'treated properly' in my opinion and the opinion of my friends. Now, I wasn't utterly stupid. I tried to keep this revelation as far as possible away from Papa and Mama. In this I was fairly successful... until that one day, a soccer match.

"I was always good at sports and physical tasks. So I was quite a good soccer player." John smiled as he saw his father nod in agreement. "And while soccer isn't supposed to be a 'contact sport', once in a while, like Quidditch, players sort of 'mix it up' on the field. Also, like so many parts of life, the referee doesn't always see the FIRST offense, but the scuffle attracts attention enough that they turn and wind up seeing the RESPONSE, rather than the beginning.

"So it was with me that day. I was in the clear, running the ball downfield towards the opponents' goal, and no one was in position to stop me. Rather than trying to get an angle or get ahead of me to make a clean steal, the defender just took an angle and rammed me, sliding down with an illegal trip. It hurt my leg, but I bounced back up instantly and kicked the bugger. The referee on the side only saw my action, not what caused it. He blew his whistle and awarded the defender a penalty kick.

"I was totally enraged, and ran over to the official to complain and state my case. Other players backed me up. Papa was sitting in the stands. I was certain he had seen the whole play, and thought he would back me up, so I was just screaming at the referee. The man, a farrier in our village, volunteering his time, just shook his head and said while he didn't deny or doubt the truth of what I was saying, he could only rule on what he, himself, saw. He had initially been watching two other players in a bit of a scrape in another part of the field, so he only saw my illegal move, not the opponent's. His ruling would stand.

"I told him exactly what I thought of that, and him, and he yellow-carded me for continuing to argue when he told me to stop. THAT only enraged me further and I completely lost it! I told him EXACTLY what I thought of him, his officiating, his skills... probably his lineage... but then..." at this point John stopped, took a deep breath, and started to chuckle. "The referee changed his mind, reached into his pocket, and red-carded me, throwing me out of the match, and telling me to go sit on the bench with my team.

That was when things turned suicidal, as I began screaming out at the top of my lungs... How dare he red-card me? Who did he think he was? Did he not know who I was? Did he know who he was messing with? Did he know who my father was? How DARE he? That I would see to it he never worked in the village again. My father was the DUKE, and he was nothing but..." here John looked down in utter consternation, as he heaved a great sigh and said... "he was nothing but one of my father's peasants!"

Harry just blinked... Oxsana choked on a sip of tea. "Oh, my God, Ivan... You didn't really!"

"Oh, yes..." he nodded. "Oh yes indeed I did," he blushed as he smiled admitting this.

"And yet, you live..." Harry said, in low tones of astonishment.

"Indeed, little brother. But it was a near thing, I assure you. The entire field had heard me, parents and all. Papa was already walking our way, having come down from the stands, but he was too far to keep me from shooting my mouth off. Still, it seemed he was at my side the moment my insult was uttered. The poor referee had turned white and backed up a step, as I had smugly crossed my arms over my chest in utter satisfaction at terrorizing the man.

"Next thing I know, Papa's hand clamped down on my shirt back between my shoulder blades and he had lifted me off the ground..."

"Ah yes, I know the feeling well," Harry admitted, having recently felt Papa do the exact same thing with him and Stashu.

"Yes," John nodded. "So I don't have to tell you how clearly one realizes that they may have 'overstepped the bounds a bit', as one's feet dangle helplessly. I started with 'Papa, I...' before I was instantly hushed both audibly and by mind-speak with Papa's furious low voice simply saying, 'Not another word... Not even the THOUGHT of another word right now.' And I knew I was in more trouble than I'd ever known before, by how intensely 'quiet' Papa's voice was. Holding me up, still, with his left hand, he BOWED to the official, deeply from the waist, saying, 'Dearest Friederich, please accept my deepest apologies and forgive my son his disgraceful behavior. His words have shamed him, they shame me, and they have shamed our family and our house. I cannot tell you how much this village, and we, owe you for your generosity and diligence in volunteering your leisure time so that our youngsters can enjoy sport. Again, I can but beg your forgiveness and give you my assurance that such an outburst will never EVER happen again. Thank you for red-carding my son when it was well-deserved. I am grateful that you call plays as fairly as you see them and the rules allow, without regard to rank or favor. It seems I have been negligent in teaching my son the value of such fairness, a condition I intend to remedy forthwith.'"

"As I hung there in his hand, I cooled down, listening to his words. My anger turned to dread as I realized what I had done, what I had said, and that I had screamed it in front of half the village. Papa probably felt my restoration of sanity," and John saw Pavel nod at this point in the recitation, "and gently lowered me to the ground, saying, 'Now, Ivan, have you something to say to Mr. Ivanicki?'"

"Having calmed down a little bit, I wasn't completely stupid, so I apologized with all the humility I could muster which, I must admit at that moment, wasn't much. But Papa then bowed again, to Mr. Ivanicki, and I knew enough to do the same, as Papa said to follow him and led the way all the way down along the field sidelines to the Field House. Right about then, I could see my entire life flash before my eyes, because I knew I was never going to get out of that room alive."

This prompted a hearty laugh from Pavel, as he added, "Frankly, children, in THAT precise moment, I wasn't sure either."

"We got into the Field House, which was mercifully unoccupied, and Papa sent me to stand in a corner while he recovered his own temper. You've never yet seen Papa in full 'high dudgeon', except to a very limited extent that morning after the meeting with Minister Fudge. But I've never EVER seen him more angry than he was right then. You could 'feel' the volcanic waves of rage pouring off him, as could anyone else within 20 feet of him. Up until then I had never felt 'fear' of him. As you say, his belt? yes. Him? no. But right then, I could feel fear of him."

Pavel interjected, "Which is precisely why I never EVER administer correction when I am angry. And, truth be told, my temper has improved considerably over the intervening years."

"Thanks to my mother, I bet!" John contributed, sotto voce.

"No doubt true, my son." Pavel agreed.

"Anyway, he sent me to a corner, which I was more than happy to oblige under the circumstances, and the room was just silent. When I sneaked a peek behind me, Papa was just kneeling, with his eyes closed. Now THAT was a bit frightening as well. I mean, Papa prays... you probably know that. But in THIS circumstance, that seemed little comfort to me. I've always wondered, Papa, that was only about 10 minutes or so and you were completely composed again. But were you using Time Magic in that space yet? I've never known exactly how your powers have evolved that way."

"Well spotted, son," Pavel nodded. "I did, indeed, use Time Arcanum right there. We had to return to the field to repair the damage done, but I was quite aware that I could not correct you as angry as I was right then. What you experienced as 10 minutes or so, was a good 2 hours for me. I had to breathe, lower my pulse, try to see things from your side, recover context and a sense of proportion and even humor. You were a little boy in an extraordinary situation of upbringing. It was to be expected that your status would sometimes tempt a proud and strong-willed boy, one so competitive as you, to speak out of turn. Nonetheless, I was determined, this was an episode that was never to be repeated as long as you lived, so..."

"Indeed, so..." John continued, "Papa carried a straight backed chair from the coach's desk out into the center of the room, sat down, and told me to come. When I'd walked halfway to him, he had me stop and explain myself.

"There wasn't a whole lot to say except that I had been illegally tripped, and it was unfair for me to be penalized and not the player who tripped me. I was telling the truth and the Mr. Ivanicki was calling me a liar. I felt justified to defend my honor and argue. As to the rest of what I'd said... well... I was just angry. Papa got angry sometimes, and so did I. That was the best I could do for a defense," John laughed.

"And under the circumstances, son," Pavel responded, "it was well done. You'd calmed your voice, used reason, and mounted a very persuasive argument. Ineffective, I'll grant... but persuasive, nonetheless. Would you like me to pick up the story from here? I know this would get a bit tough for you."

"Would you please, Papa? I'd appreciate it." John looked relieved.

"Certainly. Well, the two of you know me well, so it will come as no surprise that Ivan was fixing to be a very sorry little boy. In this case, contrary to my habit, I felt some 'special attention' was called for. So, not to belabor a point, I made clear that Ivan had behaved disgracefully. His demeanor and words had shamed himself, his team, his family, and me. He had utterly lost his self control, and had he been just a little older his temper tantrum could have caused tremendous harm through accidental magic. He was never EVER to behave so wantonly again, and certainly not in public. What's more, being my son meant that we were MORE to be respectful of laws, rules, and the dignity of others rather than less. That we owed a great debt of gratitude to the people who make recreation available, and that at NO TIME was our status to provide us privilege or preferential treatment.

"This lecture ended with the typical, 'Do you understand me?' to which Ivan responded properly. I then said if he was going to make a public display of a toddler's temper tantrum, then he would meet the consequences of a toddler's temper tantrum, he was to remove his shorts and pants, and come to me for his spanking."

Harry and Oxsana could not help but turn to look at John, who was blushing furiously where he sat.

"Seriously, Papa Pavel? You've got to be kidding!" Oxsana laughed in astonishment. "I mean, you transform clothing for effect, I know. But you never..." her voice trailed off.

"I never humiliate, or deliver a spanking on a bare backside... Except! In some very rare circumstances. For one thing, I'd latched the doors so that no one could walk in unexpectedly. Second, Ivan had met those very rare circumstances. This was selfish, arrogant, childish, and extremely public. He was, therefore, taken across my lap as I summoned from an equipment cabinet, a small thickly rubber-padded ping-pong paddle that delivers much the same swat as a human hand, and paddled his entire bottom to a deep crimson. I was steady and careful to cause no damage, but simply spanked him until his backside and upper thighs knew the full flaming intensity of my disapproval and displeasure. The spanking continued through his shock, then his excuses, then his anger, and then his sheer stubbornness. It ended when we finally reached his sorrow and yielding to my authority. I have no idea how many swats he took, but because I was keeping them 'light' to avoid damage, it took a considerable time to reach my goal, Ivan's contrition.

"I stood him up when we finished, to ask why he'd been spanked. He simply answered, 'because I was a brat to Mr. Ivanicki.' I thought that summed it up nicely, and asked if he was ever going to speak that way to anyone ever again. He said, 'no, sir.' I thanked him and pulled him into a hug, telling him he was forgiven, and he cried out most of his pain for the next 10 minutes or so. When we were down merely to sniffles, I told him to put his clothing back on, and informed him that there had been no sound warding on the Field House for his spanking. Slowly his eyes went wide as he realized everyone at the field had probably heard the paddling and his wailing."

"No kidding, Papa!" John called out, laughing. "How could I go back out there after that!? I was going to be a laughingstock, and my friends were never going to let me live it down!"

"Indeed, and that was his reaction there in the Field House as well," Pavel continued. "I told him that he had made a public display, seen and heard by everyone there. That, by itself, was not the only problem. For only that, he'd have kept his privacy. BUT... he'd INVOKED ME. He had threatened Mr. Ivanicki's security with ME, with my rank and authority as Duke. He'd dragged me, unwillingly, into his arrogant display. There could be no mistake, not even the slightest possibility, that anyone there could be left thinking I endorsed such an attitude. I told Ivan, quite clearly, any time, and every time, he ever threatened someone unjustly with my authority, especially in public, he could rest assured his correction would be equally public. And if we needed to start all over again, right here... I was prepared to do that. Just come back to my lap, and don't bother putting his shorts and pants back on."

The two of them, father and son, spent a moment there in the Drawing Room, just staring at one another. It seemed they were reliving the clash of wills of that Field House so long ago.

Finally, Oxsana couldn't stand it... "Well, Ivan? What did you do?"

John laughed, "I put my pants on, and said 'yes, sir', of course. Papa then walked me out of the Field house with a hand on my shoulder, marched me to the team bench where the coach and other players were, and made me sit on my sore bottom. He leaned down to whisper, 'Don't even think about standing up until the end of this game, when you will rise and make an appropriate apology to the members of your team, and your coaches.' Then he just walked back to the stands to watch the rest of the game."

"So was that the end of it?" Oxsana poured some more tea for Pavel and John.

"Pretty much," John concluded. "Papa still took both teams out for lunch and ice cream, which he always did. Afterwards he decided that he and I would walk home together, rather than being picked up by coach. That was a further part of my punishment, because it was a long walk, and my backside still burned like fury. There was no way I was going to rub out the sting on public streets or walkways."

"Did your friends give you a hard time?" Oxsana sympathized.

"No!" John said with upraised eyebrows and a tone of surprise. "In fact, they were really decent about it. They'd heard Papa tear me up, of course, and they actually felt really sorry they'd been goading and daring me into this whole 'Viscount' attitude thing. They knew Papa wasn't snotty like that, and they were really sorry I got in so much trouble. In fact, if any other kid who hadn't been there started to give me crap about being the Duke's son... they'd pretty much shut him down or promise to black his eye. That all worked out pretty well. Of course, I still had to go home and write a proper apology to Mr. Ivanicki, and Mama baked some cookies I had to go deliver to their house with my apology, along with repeating it verbally in front of him and his family. But they were really gracious about it, and even asked me in to have a cookie and glass of milk with them. I still stood as they sat, of course, but they didn't make fun of me for that. He just said I was a fierce competitor that needed to learn to control my temper a bit, but he understood."

"He understood more than you know, Ivan. He cut down your punishment considerably, that we never told you," Pavel laughed.

"Really?" John looked up, curious about part of this story he'd never heard.

"Oh, yes. He and I grew up together, of course. His father, my father, and Horsemaster Zankiw spent considerable time together as your grandfather loved our horses so much and Friederich's father was the farrier for all our horses. The men would often spend long hours in the Training Barn, while Stephan Ivanicki would shoe the horses or trim their hooves, while my Papa and Master Zankiw worked them or practiced _pas de dieux_. After the game, as the teams exchanged handshakes I went over to Friedrich to again extend my apologies, and he just grabbed me and kissed my cheeks, then my ring, laughing the whole time.

"'Don't be ridiculous, Pavel...' he quipped. 'The boy lost his temper and got a bit too big for his britches. Not like we've never done that, eh? But I say, good thing the Old Duke wasn't here to hear that, eh? Goodness, he'd not have bothered with the Field House, you think?'"

"My father was, if you can believe it, far stricter than I am. And Friedrich knew it. We'd both taken lickings from our papas in the barn," Pavel chuckled, "sometimes at the same time for mischief we would get into together. Had my father heard me say such things at that soccer game, he'd have put me across his knee right there at the sideline, bared my backside, and hided me with his belt, not a little paddle."

"Well, say what you will about that 'little paddle', Papa," John laughed ruefully, "It hurt like hell, and that was certainly one of the worst whippings I've ever taken."

"Unfair, my son?" Pavel countered.

"No, not a bit. Totally called for, Papa. Just saying don't undervalue a little rubber-faced ping-pong paddle."

"It's not the instrument son, it's the musician..." Pavel chuckled, sipping more tea.

"But what's this about him reducing my punishment?"

"Ah, that. Well, I told him I planned to have you help maintain the soccer fields... cutting grass, liming the lines, and such, for the rest of the season. You needed to learn that our titles meant we serve, not lord it over others. But he put his hand on my shoulder saying, 'Pavel, you've waled the tar out of the boy already, and he's facing down all his friends and playmates. I suspect he'll have learned his lesson by the time he gets home, don't you? After all, isn't that the point? That he never do this again? Just think about it. Your boy, your rules, but just think about it, ok?' And by the time I discussed this with Mama, I agreed. So, you were spared that."

"Ha!" John grunted, "he still has the shop in the village, doesn't he?" John looked at Pavel who nodded. "I'll need to head over there sometime this visit and just chat with him. I'll thank him for his mercy, and apologize again."

"That would be marvelous, Ivan!" Pavel laughed. "Take Harry with you, why not, and introduce him. I think he may have a grandchild or two over there, I believe his son is working in the business with him. If you REALLY want a lesson in grace and humility, tell THEM this story. I'm sure he'd enjoy it."

"I may just do that, Papa. Sounds like it could be fun."

"Perhaps I could come along?" Oxsana spoke up. "You could introduce me as your fiancee!"

"Sounds like an excellent plan..." Pavel concluded. "Well, all, are we about ready to leave for the Chalet? Or shall we see about dinner here first? Or perhaps a bit of broomstick touring? Harry, what would you prefer?"

"If it's all the same with everyone, I'd love to fly a bit and see things with you all, and then I know the wonderful Kitchen staff would love to make us dinner. They were almost begging when we were there. And THEN maybe we all head home to the Chalet?" Harry suggested.

"Perfect then. Ivan and Oxsana, are you free to join us here for dinner?"

"Certainly, Papa Pavel," Oxsana nodded.

"Then let's go flying for a bit, eh?" Pavel led the way towards the front entrance, where footmen already anticipated them, holding their cloaks and brooms.

Harry was astonished at such service. "I dunno, Papa. I think I could really get used to this. Any chance these footmen could come with us to Hogwarts?"

Harry ducked as a jocular swipe was made to cuff the back of his head. "My son, don't even THINK about getting used to this. You're spoiled enough already, and it's going to take me weeks to settle you back down when we return to school! Now... off we go!" and they all headed out the door to kick off from the steps laughing.

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	24. Little Lord Harry

**Little Lord Harry**

The Family returned from touring the area southeast of the Manor, returning when the sky was full dark and the lights of Odessa were gorgeous against the backdrop of the Black Sea beyond. They flew at an altitude of about 1000 feet, though Papa told Harry not to get separated because of hilltops or possible obstructions in the dark. Again using a modified Disallusionment Charm, they wouldn't raise any eyebrows from potential observers.

"Dinner should be served in an hour or so," Pavel announced, as they walked in again to hand their cloaks and brooms to the footmen, to the repeated delight of Harry. "We have one simple task to perform first. Harry, why don't you follow Ivan to your room. It's been prepared for you already. You can wash up, and I'll meet you there in a couple minutes."

John ran up a grand staircase and took the right side to continue to the second floor, heading down the north wing where the family quarters were. Papa's room was halfway down the hall to the right. John's room was directly across the hall. Harry had been placed in the room just past and next door to Papa. John opened Harry's bedroom door to let his little brother in, as again, Harry found his breath taken away. The room was gorgeous and fitted out perfectly for Harry, again decorated in Gryffindor colors, containing books, some toys, posters of the Chudley Cannons. Two large bay windows, with window seats, expanded the exterior wall. Closet and water closet occupied the wall opposite Pavel's room. John left him to clean up and headed to his own room.

A few minutes later, Pavel was knocking on Harry's door... "Harry? May I please have a little of your time?"

"Sure, Papa. What's up? I've just been checking things out here for a bit."

"Excellent! Have you checked out the Closet and the clothes?" Pavel asked.

"I took a quick look, yeah. But nothing close or detailed. Why do you ask?" Harry responded, noticing a short dowdy elf standing next to Papa in the doorway. The little... house elf, Harry guessed, though he was again completely clothed in shirt, trousers, braces and waistcoat, with a lump of French chalk parked over one huge ear, and scraps of parchment, pencil and a portable quill resting comfortably in a shirt pocket. A measuring tape lay draped across the little man's neck and shoulders. "How do you do?" Harry stood, and gave a short bow in greeting the newcomer.

"Two reasons: One, in the closet you will find proper dinner clothes, that you need to put on for supper. Two, the Tailor here, and I need just a few minutes of your time for a very quick fitting. Georgy here needs to get your measurements. I need to get some new clothes made for you, including a new suit for tomorrow since you plan to go to work with me. Won't take a minute. Please..." Pavel walked to Harry's closet and removed a dark charcoal gray suit: slim fit trousers, waistcoat, wizard's long length jacket/robe, a white silk shirt with french cuffs, Gryffindor tie, and matching pocket handkerchief. Putting the clothing down on the bed, he beckoned Harry to his bureau and opened a jewelry box containing tie tacks, tie bars, lapel pins, shirtfront studs, and cufflinks. "If you would please, go change into these trousers and this shirt, and Tailor Georgy will get your measurements."

Pavel had just walked all this around, narrating as he went, leaving Harry a bit confused in his wake. Noticing his son making no move to comply, Pavel just chuckled, returned to the bed, picked up the suit pants and silk shirt, and handed them to Harry.

"Begone, waif! Change!" he mock hollared.

"Oh, ok. Yes, sir. Be right back," Harry recovered himself as though rousing from sleep, and headed into his dressing room/bathroom to change.

In mere moments, Harry had returned wearing his gray trousers and silk shirt, open at the collar and cuffs. Pavel pulled a chair into the middle of the bedroom floor... which gave Harry a moment of anxiety... but then held out a hand saying, "Please come stand up on this chair for just a moment, so Tailor Georgy can get your measurements. It will just take a moment." Harry climbed up to stand straight on the chair.

"Thank you, young master," Tailor Georgy spoke for the first time. He drew the measuring tape from around his neck and flung it into the air, as he removed a quill and parchment, placing them down on Harry's desk. Quick as a wink, the tape worked its way from top to bottom, measuring his neck, shoulders, sleeves, chest, waist, outseam, inseam, finishing with his overall height. He then asked Harry to put on a special pair of socks he drew from his pocket, as Harry came down from his perch, and Harry complied.

"Thank you, Your Grace, young master... I shall have your wardrobe ready and delivered by morning, Your Grace. Thank you for all your help." The little elf bowed deeply, and "POOF!", he was gone with a snap of his finger.

Harry just stood there, a bit confused.

Pavel chuckled saying, "In that tomorrow is 'Take Your Kid to Work Day' here, you had to have some 'professional' clothing to attend these meetings. Since you'll have to attend some social functions here, I'm taking the opportunity to have some other garments made for you aa well. Those socks at the end, gave Tailor Georgy your foot size and contour, to make comfortable shoes, dress shoes, and jodhpurs for you. Now, would you like me to show you how to handle this jewelry and such? I need you to put on a tie. Since you've doomed us to the formal Dining Room for dinner... it's full dress service for the meal. Ivan will forgive you... eventually... I think."

Harry was going to whine about this, until he heard that he'd sentenced John to dress. This tickled him so much, he decided to enjoy it.

"Yes, Papa, I can use some help. How do these cufflinks work? I think I can manage the rest. By the way, what are 'jodhpurs'?"

Pavel smiled, "I think you'll like them, Harry. They're just a low cut boot, flat heel. Sort of like your high top trainers, but no laces and all leather... leather soles. They're comfortable to walk in, but with riding trousers that have an elastic loop at the end of each leg, they give you the appearance and ankle support of a boot without the weight and stiffness of the whole lower leg. So here's how you deal with a French cuff..." and his father showed Harry how the double fold worked, and how the two buttons on a short chain threaded through the four layers of starched material to secure the cuffs without discomfort.

By the time he got the tie, vest, and outer jacket/robe on the suit actually didn't chafe at all. It all felt just as comfortable as his play clothes did, but for the fact that he had buttons everywhere to mess with.

"So there you are. Give me just a couple minutes, and I'll be ready, too," Papa said. "We usually meet and chat in the Drawing Room over drinks until dinner is announced, so the table can be prepared without our making the staff nervous. Then we'll go in and eat. You're welcome to wait for Ivan or me to go down, or you can go on as you please. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really, but it seems weird to need instructions on 'how to go to dinner'." he laughed.

"Well, I know this is all rather new for you, and I'd rather answer any questions you may have, than have you feel at sea or uncomfortable. I want you to feel comfortable here as soon as you can. This is now, very much, YOUR house. So... I'll be with you shortly, and please stay clean for the next... 20 minutes or so?" he said, waving as he headed for his own room.

Harry thought about heading downstairs, but decided he didn't want to bounce around so much space all by himself. Heading to the Kitchen, he'd probably just be in the way. He wasn't sure where Oxsana was, or if John were ready yet, so he decided to ask... _he mind-spoke, "John? Oxsana? Are you downstairs yet, or up here?"_ He ran his finger under his collar as if it were too tight, which he knew it wasn't, but still...

 _"We're up here, Little Buddy, come join us. Come down the hall towards the opposite end from the stairs. There's a little solarium here. It's pretty... Just turn right from your room, and follow the hall." John instructed._

Harry did as he was told and found this really neat little parlor, with a big panoramic window like half a dome at the end of their floor. Plants grew inside, and clearly the sunlight must be brilliant in the daytime. There were couches, armchairs, end tables, coffee tables, and some gaming tables with chairs all scattered to enjoy the sense of openness to the room.

"Holy cats," Harry exclaimed, entering the bulbous room with its high vaulted ceiling. "This feels like I'm walking into a goldfish bowl. What is this?"

"This is called a 'Solarium', and each of the long hallways have a space like this. It keeps the place from feeling small and closed in during the winter. A charm keeps snow from sticking outside or occluding the windows, so you always look up into the sky, even if snow or sleet is actively falling." Oxsana answered him. There were sliding glass seamless doors that led to a great curved marble outside terrace around the outside of the glass, so that one could take tea or breakfast outside in good weather. Actually, Harry correctly reflected, with magic he supposed you could do that anytime, changing the environment for comfort if you wanted to.

In just a few moments, the gentle sound of a gong pealed through the house, announcing 15 minutes until dinner was served, and John and Oxsana rose to bring Harry to the Drawing Room for preprandials.

"Pre- what?" Harry asked.

"Preprandials, cocktails or before-dinner drinks... Something you need not worry about for the next 5 years. You're welcome to something appropriate to drink, however. What would you like? A soda? Butterbeer? Chocolate milk? Whatever?"

"Pfft! You know Papa wouldn't let me drink something that sweet just before dinner. He'd claim it would 'spoil my appetite'."

"Yeah," John laughed, "you're probably right. But you don't have to chug the whole thing in just a few minutes, and you can carry it in to dinner with you. Anyway, we just chat and get ready until dinner is announced. So, come along," John encouraged, walking them towards the grand staircase as they spoke.

"And why don't we just blink to the Drawing Room? Instead of walking half the house to get there?" Harry quipped.

"Wow, it's amazing, Harry... the stuff I don't even think about, once habits are put in place. I've not thought of that question since I was a little boy. Papa 'discourages' magical transport in the Manor as being 'bad manners'. I can nearly hear his voice in my head right now..." as they approached the Drawing Room door, they heard Pavel's dulcet tones ring out...

"There is no need for magical transport in this house, unless you're daydreaming and late, or simply lazy. A healthy young man such as yourself can manage to walk properly from one end of this house to the other in the time allotted. There is no reason for blinking unless you would need otherwise to run. And there's no reason for running, unless you are late. And there's no reason for lateness, unless you are careless or lazy. And there's no excuse for either of those!"

All three of Pavel's children laughed, as Papa recited these lines as if repeating an age-old nursery rhyme.

"ACK!" John exclaimed... "the words are embedded in the very WALLS!"

Pavel was pouring sherry for the three of them, as he beckoned Harry to pour a soft drink of his choice. "They may as well be, son. I know I heard them from MY father often enough in here!"

"As no doubt," Oxsana continued, "he heard them from HIS father!"

"No doubt," Pavel nodded.

Harry said, "I notice most of these quotations address 'young men'. Does that mean you were exempt, Oxsana?" he asked, laughing.

"Hardly! I'd get my own 'young lady' version, with a light swat of Papa Pavel's wand, if I got caught running, blinking, or even two swats if I tried blinking 'out of sight' and walking in as if I'd walked the whole way."

"'Sneaking' is just an action form of 'lying', little miss." Pavel concluded.

"He'd swat you with his WAND?" Harry looked puzzled.

"Oh yes," John answered. "He could draw and swat with that thing like a light little switch, no magic, when he wanted to. It wouldn't do any harm, like a cane would. But it'd sting like fury for a minute or two."

"No unaskable questions, right, Papa?" Harry sat down to join them all by the fire.

"Of course, my son," Pavel looked interested.

"I've noticed, you always swat with something. Never just spank with your hand. Is it to avoid damage to your hand? Or some magical reason having to do with casting? Don't muggles give spankings with their bare hands sometimes? It seems you never do. I've wondered why? 'Cause I know, sometimes, you've swatted me with a lot less force... even with a paddle, or the strap, than would even happen with a simple slap. I've wondered about this."

"I never, EVER, strike with my hand, Harry. Nor did my father, even though as I've said, he was considerably stricter than I. He once explained, when I asked him the same question, that a spanking generates 'fear'. That's part of its purpose, to be frank... to condition a healthy degree of trepidation, motivating avoidance of future actions that require it. Deterrence, in other words. BUT... he never EVER wanted me to fear his HANDS. Just as I never want any child to fear mine. My hands are to guide, encourage, comfort, heal, support. My hands are not ever intended to cause hurt or pain. It breaks my heart any time I see a child flinch from the touch of an adult's hands. That always tells me there is darkness in their past. So no, Harry. I never strike with my hands, and I never strike unexpectedly. I prefer order and ritual, discussion and complete understanding of the necessity of any painful correction. If at all possible, I prefer that there is agreement as to the justice and wisdom of a spanking being administered. But when I reach for you, or for any child, I want the clear understanding that my hands are a place of safety, warmth, and love. Never punishment. I can strike just as softly with wood or leather as I can with my palm. As I've said, 'It's not the instrument, it's the musician.' that makes the music."

Harry got up from where he was sitting, walked over to Pavel's chair, and reached up to climb up into his lap without a word of explanation. Pavel picked him up, small and light as he was, still more the size of a 9 or 10 year old, rather than a pre-teen... formal dinner clothes and all, and just snuggled him seated in his arms. No one said a word. No one had to. This had been a day of remarkable revelations, that had certainly unhinged Harry's whole world and everything he thought he knew about his own place in it. Everyone was amazed and pleased at how readily the boy had accepted and adapted to all this change. But for him simply to need to anchor himself in the one truth he could count on above all others, that he could rest secure, trusting in the love and care of his Papa... was completely understandable. Pavel simply hugged and rocked him saying nothing at all, as Oxsana and John took the opportunity to hug and rock together as well.

The gong gently sounded again, as Pavel looked down into the mop top of his son saying, "You ready to go eat, now?"

Harry nodded, mumbling into Pavel's chest, "Yes, Papa. I love you," as he stood up, and reached out to help Pavel up as well.

Pavel replied with a simple, "I love you too, Harry, my son." as he graciously accepted the unneeded assistance, all arose, picked up their glasses, and headed into the Dining Room.

* * *

Dinner went by as smoothly as one could expect, considering that for the first time in his life Harry was faced by a full, formal place setting of three forks, three knives, and two spoons, distributed to the left, right, and above his plate, two goblets... one for water, one for beverage, bread plate... Harry was struck in a moment of panic with that "way over his head" feeling.

John chuckled, "It's simpler than it looks, Harry. Use the implements from the outside in... soup spoon's on the outside, right... salad fork is outside left, and so on. The ones on top are the bread knife on your bread plate there above the forks, and desert fork and spoon above your plate. Our servers are going to bring soup, salad, bread, fish, then the main course, and dessert. Then we'll have tea or coffee, whether here or out in the Drawing Room, and the grownups may have brandy or other spirits. You don't have to worry about 'getting it all right' here. Like anytime you aren't sure what to do, you can discretely watch others and follow their lead."

With few miscues, Harry made it through the meal, everyone enjoying their time together, as John and Oxsana told stories of their own childhood, food fights, miscues, and the trials of various meals where they faced foods they either didn't know, or didn't like, and watching Papa and Mama dealing diplomatically with the consequences. Harry felt far more confident by the time dessert was finished, which was Pavel's purpose in allowing the formal meal in the first place. Much better such an introduction in the midst of the laughter and joy of family alone, rather than at a formal banquet where all would be judging Harry by his deportment.

"Papa! PLEASE don't tell me we'll be eating like this, all through this holiday at the Chalet!" Harry suddenly breathed in shock.

"No, my son. We'll dress for dinner, and be seated at a proper dining table. But the settings will be the same as at Hogwarts, and no one will have to deal with a 'dessert fork'. I promise." Pavel laughed in reply.

"Oh, THANK YOU!" Harry said, relieved.

As together they arose to head back home, Harry asked if he could be excused a moment to go to the kitchens and thank the staff. Pavel thought this a wonderful idea, saying they'd meet him at the front door before riding home. They planned to broom ride home at moderate speed, to enjoy the evening and work off some of their hearty meal.

Harry started to tear off from the table to the kitchens at a run, interrupted suddenly by Papa's voice calling out... "There is no excuse for a young man running in this house..."

"Sorry, Papa. I forgot..." Harry called back, suddenly skidding to a sedate walk along the way...

"Ah, like I've never heard THAT cry before..." Pavel said quietly, heading towards the entry foyer.

"Don't know what'cher talkin' 'bout, Papa!" John muttered, as Oxsana simply laughed at them both.

* * *

Together, they all rode sedately home.

Entering the Chalet, Pavel looked at Harry yawning where he stood and spoke but one word.

"Bed!" Papa said, kindly but firmly.

Harry's face screwed up as if to complain, until he saw John smiling and shaking his head at him, and thought better of it.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, half dragging his way towards his bedroom.

"Good lad, son. I'll be up in a bit to say goodnight," Pavel patted him on the shoulder as he walked by.

"OK. 'Night all!" Harry muttered, again working against a yawn, as everyone wished him a good night as well.

A few minutes later, the three of them sat in the kitchen sharing a cup of tea, pondering all the day's events.

"Papa, I'm sorry I was disrespectful this afternoon. I was just..." John apologized.

"I know, son. I understand. You weren't being a 'bad son', you were being a 'good brother'. To be perfectly honest, I share every bit of your concern. It's just that I see greater risk to Harry if we try to keep him sequestered, than if we follow this plan. I don't LIKE it, any more than you do. But no apology necessary, though I thank you for it."

"I suppose you're right, Papa. It's going to be hell now, trying to keep him safe. We can see about increasing security around Hogwarts when we return. Still, at least as long as he stays on the Estate, we don't have to worry about him here for the next 10 days." John breathed a sigh of relief.

"Agreed. At least for the time being we can relax a bit. He's perfectly safe here within my borders. Thank goodness for that."

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	25. Family to Work Day

**Family to Work Day**

Pavel was down in the kitchen making coffee when John came in. Harry was still asleep, after their late night.

"No sign of our little waif yet, Ivan?" Pavel asked, handing his son a cup of hot coffee.

"Not yet, Papa. Though I stopped by his room on the way down, and he's starting to stir."

"Did he have any trouble sleeping, did he mention?"

"No, sir. Nothing serious anyway. He apparently had a bad dream about being chased around a dinner table by some silverware at one point. Some variant on the 'Hey Diddle Diddle' nursery rhyme."

"Well good," Pavel laughed. "Much better he fret about pushy flatware, than be worried about the neighbors' boy wanting his head on a pike. I hoped, with so much new information presented to him yesterday, our little 'problem with the neighbors' would just blend into the background pattern of all the rest. Well, let's see if our little lordling is up and dressed yet. We have a busy day ahead of us."

"When will you be going out, Papa?" Ivan asked.

"Not for a little while yet. I've appointments at 10 and 11, up at the Crest. Until then, I'll be looking over paperwork here in my Study. I thought I'd review it with Harry when he's dressed and ready. I'd like him to understand as much of the meeting as possible."

"What's the agenda, Papa?"

"Actually, it will be one of the most interesting he could attend. Aside from some status reports and production figures, - the boring part - it's my approvals for awards, program budgets, and new program preparations for next year. I'll deal with any urgent appeals or court needs, of course. It will be interesting what the Council make of him. I've already let them know he is coming."

"So, want me to have him get a wiggle on, then?" John chuckled.

"Sure, why should he laze about if he wants to see what Papa's work day is like? Tell him to get dressed properly, and I'll help with the cufflinks, if he needs. Threaten to finish all the breakfast. That may provide motivation!" Pavel laughed.

"On my way, Papa!" John called, as he headed up the stairs holding his coffee.

About an hour later saw Harry, dressed in three-piece wizarding suit of navy blue pinstripe, pulling at his shirt collar as though the silk material chafed, was seated alongside Papa's desk in his study, reviewing stacks of journals and parchment.

"May I offer a suggestion that might help, Harry?" Pavel asked, watching his son shuffle aimlessly through the stacks of information.

"Certainly!" Harry looked up.

"Stack the parchments neatly, the just 'look at' each of them for a moment, with a single eye blink. Move down through the pile as though you were a camera taking images. Each 'book' or 'journal', turn to the very last section written in, and flow through those pages the same way. Unless I miss my guess, your mind magic has progressed enough that doing this will embed all the information in your retrievable memory. It won't 'prepare a report' for you, or compose something. But it will provide answers to any clear question you can mentally articulate. Try that a moment..."

So Harry neatened a stack of documents, then steadily turned them over leaf by leaf into a 'done' pile. Pavel knew the reports and summaries he was looking at. So, before Harry could shift his attention to some journal chapters, Pavel asked, "How much lumber did the Northeast Region produce in the second half of this year?"

"Approximately half a million board feet, sir," Harry answered instantly.

"And Bauxite? How much ore did they send to the refineries?" Pavel continued.

"Two hundred fifty thousand metric tonnes, sir," Harry answered again.

"Good. Well done. Carry on, Harry," Pavel nodded with a smile, making no big deal of the fact that Harry's command of mind magic was well ahead of the norm in his gaining command of his gifts. Soon, he and Harry were going to have to have a long talk about his schoolwork. "Study" and "memorization" were now no longer any challenge at all. He had a nearly perfect eidetic memory already. While that is assuredly a good thing, it can lead to a very false sense of confidence.

Simply the fact that one has knowledge, too often is mistaken for "knowing all about" a topic, when it was no such thing. The fact that someone may have memorized all the works of Shakespeare perfectly, for example - an otherwise very impressive feat - does not mean that they can write an essay of any quality on the comparison and contrast of "Romeo and Juliet", with "Taming of the Shrew". Eidetic memory only provides raw material for analysis, not quality synthesis. It is easy for a young mage, just discovering the joys of "instant memorization" to mistake raw "knowledge" for "skill", especially with regard to magic... a potentially deadly error of judgment. Mastery still requires practice, drill, and the development of magical and muscle memory, not just cognition.

Harry was blissfully ignorant of any of this crossing Pavel's mind, as they sat preparing for these appointments. Pavel waited patiently until Harry had gone over all the written material, sitting comfortably with his hands folded across his middle.

"So, Harry," Pavel began, as Harry finished his last revision of the reports. "What do you think, or what questions do you have? What are your first impressions?"

Harry sat still and silent for a minute, reflecting on all he had seen. "Mainly, that it's a LOT. It reminds me a bit of how you teach history. I mean, Professor Binns always just looked at this war, or that war, or this date, that leader, these countries... whatever. But you look at people, places, geography, resources, religions, trade... all this stuff about WHY leaders made the decisions they make, and how things happen. It's just a lot more complicated than the way most subjects are taught." Harry paused a bit. "Well, that's not right either. Or it's sort of right..." he paused again, as Pavel gave him time to sort out his thoughts. "What I mean is, in a way it's 'more complicated', but in another way it makes more sense. I mean, if you look at wars just 'breaking out'... like measles or something, it never really makes sense. You're just trying to keep up with memorizing names, dates and places. But when you see the reasons behind people making the decisions they do, whether to invade someone else, or defend against a threat - whether real or imagined - then you can kind of understand how something started. Know what I mean?"

Pavel nodded, "Yes, son. I do. And it's really important to me that young wizards start thinking this way, and asking themselves why people do what they do in given situations. I really believe half the conflict in the world around us, is because we tend to look at things only one way, and can't see how others can interpret our actions or posture as being threatening or potentially dangerous. Especially when it comes to mages and muggles. Our very innate power makes us appear to be a threat to those without magic."

"But aren't we, really? Aren't magical people an automatic threat to mundane people?" Harry asked.

"I don't think so, son. That's like saying aren't adults an automatic threat to children, because they're physically larger. Or males innately dangerous to females for the same reason. When people choose to accept the sacredness of EVERY person, regardless of age, sex, size, magical status, or anything else... when we live by a code that says we will treat all people with dignity and fairness, we can overcome assumptions and unfounded fears. But you're right in the sense that exploitation is always a possibility, some people choose this path, and it takes diligence to maintain order and dignity in society. That's certainly what OUR governance is about."

"I don't know how you can do it, Papa," Harry said, still feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"In a very real sense, I don't, Harry. None of us can do it alone. Let's head on up to the office. You'll get to meet some of the real people that make this all work. I can only do one part. Many, many others hold everything together. Let's find our brooms..."

The two of them headed to the Kitchen after Pavel grabbed his Staff, went to the Mud Room, donned their overcloaks and grabbed their brooms, heading outside to fly. Papa led Harry up the mountain slope south of the Chalet, over and beyond the Village, to the crown of the highest crest. Up here Harry saw a circular building, glass all around, with a second round dome attached. They walked in through a sliding glass door keyed to Pavel's palm, hung up their cloaks and parked their brooms to enter a vast round room brilliantly sunlit walled by glass nearly all the way around it.

The view was absolutely breathtaking, as this, which Papa called the "Teahouse" straddled the mountain ridge, and gave a 50 mile view or better, both north and south. They could even make out the Black Sea from here as clear as the air was. Forest covered mountain slopes salted with snowfall, frozen ribbons of streams and runoff iridescent in the polarizing sunlight looking like candy floss down the slopes, birds circling overhead as hawks scanned the ground for careless wildlife out of their burrows... you felt like you stood at the top of the world. In the centre of the room was a great round ring-shaped table with room in the middle for someone to stand to make a presentation, or for Papa to place his staff if he wanted to set up a Diorama. Around this there was room enough for smaller tables against the wall, so that smaller conferences or meetings could be held, or meals served. Harry could see that this room could be used for a lot of things, or different kinds of presentations or activities. Chairs throughout were comfortable leather swivel rocking chairs on wheels.

About 20% of the outer wall wasn't glass, but counter and service area that clearly led to a kitchen. A long countertop there already held coffee and tea urns, cold beverages, and a very full buffet assortment of small sandwiches and a great variety of pastries and snacks.

"These meetings will include lunch for some of those attending, so anyone can feel free to serve themselves whenever they'd like. I really enjoy this venue for meetings, Harry, and I have an 'office' over here opposite the Kitchens. Since I do most of my work in my own Study, wherever I am, there's not a lot of material in my office. But sometimes, I use it for a formal meeting with someone I do not choose to invite to my home. What do you think?" Pavel smiled.

"Wow, Papa. Just... wow! If we had a classroom like this at Hogwarts, I don't think anybody could get any studying done at all! This is all just so beautiful. You can see forever from here!" Harry said, unable to tear himself from the windowed walls, as slowly he circled the panorama.

"All righty then, Harry. Let me take a quick look at you..." Pavel inspected that the boy's seams were straight, tie and handkerchief placed properly. "You look every inch the Scion of the House, me lad. Now, why don't you pour yourself some tea or cocoa, get a plate of snacks if you'd like, and you will sit right here..." he said, indicating the chair just to the right of his own at the circular table, "and I'll do the same as I get my notes ready."

"OK, Papa. What's going to happen here, and what do I need to know?"

"Well, the first meeting is a general 'status review', and it will all be happening with mind speak at a fairly dense rate. The second meeting will be a number of presentations, summaries, and some question/answer where I'll be approving programs, answering questions, or giving direction. That second meeting will also be happening with mind-speak, but not at quite so fast a pace. Still, the information load will be dense. The main thing I want you to know is that if at any time you feel dizzy, disoriented, or nauseous, or if you start to experience a headache, you are to withdraw from the pool and occlude us... or, if you are not able, then squeeze my arm for a moment and I will exclude you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I understand. Do you expect that to happen?" Harry looked concerned.

"Not particularly. But I won't be doing most of the presenting, others will. So I can't be sure how much pressure or at what speed they will push the information. I just don't want you thinking you have to stay with the flow no matter what. If you start to get a headache, I expect you to withdraw. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Papa. I hear you. I'll be careful," Harry assured him.

"Good lad. Right then, let's sit for the moment, and our staff will arrive shortly.

Within the next fifteen minutes, twenty mages of various ages, both witches and wizards arrived. Each were warmly greeted, double kissed, kissed Pavel's ring, and were introduced to Harry with every sign of true affection with one another. To a casual observer, the 'meeting' would have looked very odd, indeed. Papa set his Staff upright in the centre of the 'lecture pit' of the Table, and some presenters made use of Diorama to illustrate resource production at various points of the Estate. Others used it to show new construction or maintenance activities on highways and utilities.

As Pavel had warned him, Harry saw that information did, indeed, flow by exceedingly quickly. At the same time, the preparation he had had from home, seeing the summaries in Papa's Study, helped a great deal for Harry keeping up with the discussion. He didn't worry about trying to memorize anything or focusing intently on specifics. He just wanted to acquire a sense of general scope of the Estate and its activity.

At the end of an hour, the meeting drew to a close as Pavel asked if there were any comments, questions, or concerns that anyone had that had not been addressed. Finding none, he closed the meeting inviting everyone to a few minutes' break, and refreshments.

 _"How are you holding up, son?" Pavel asked in his head._

 _"Fine, sir. A little confusion, no doubt. But no discomfort. It's all just pretty amazing. Are these the 'managers' of each of these interests?"_

 _"Some are, some are not. Some of these are 'Seneschal's', managers of particular areas of responsibility. Some of these people, however, are the accounting and data collection managers, not the operations directors. It depends on how complex the task. All, however, are loyal bondsmen entrusted with the care of their areas of responsibility."_

 _"Maybe you can explain that 'bondsman' thing to me later, Papa. I don't understand."_

 _"I'll try, son. But it's hard to explain sometimes until you're older. We'll have a few people leaving and some arriving for the next meeting. I think you'll find it a bit more interesting."_

In about 10 minutes, the newcomers were all greeted, introduced and seated, and the meeting got underway. A great deal of the time was discussion of continuation of current programs, scholarships, educational and health education enrichment, summer and holiday sports, youth activities, camps, and travel, and a couple of new business ventures. The very last agenda item captured Harry's attention. It was judicial stuff, as people appealed rulings made by the courts and judges of the Estate, asking for reassessment by the Duke directly.

It astonished Harry to see Pavel work through these. Several cases he disposed of immediately, analyzing the written material and rendering a written verdict with charmed quill and parchment. Some, however, he instructed to have examined for further facts by his law enforcement mind mages, and then get back to him. Others, just a scant handful of others, however, he said he was going to investigate for himself and would return a verdict before the end of the week. For some reason, these cases captured Harry's attention, and he found himself wondering if he... and maybe his friends... could be of any help.

This second meeting then adjourned promptly at the end of the hour, as Papa and Harry rose to take their leave of all the officials. Pavel mind-spoke to Harry after a few moments, that it was customary for him to leave first, so they should go ahead and get their cloaks on and thank all for coming. They did so, and exited to the glorious sunshine of the noontime winter's day.

Riding back at a leisurely pace, Pavel inquired, "You still good, Harry? No headache or tension?"

"Not really a headache, Papa. I feel a little strain, maybe. But it could just be the weather, too. As likely it's sinus, as the mind magic."

"So what did you think of everything, son?"

"I kind of get it. You're ultimately responsible, so you need to know what's going on, and need to be able to rule on the directions things are taking. But at the same time, all those people are really good a what they do, and know all about it down to the nuts and bolts. So... as long as you can trust them completely, and they you, then this system works smoothly."

"That's right, Harry. Well put," Pavel nodded as they flew along.

"Let me ask, though, what if someone doesn't like how things are going, or how they're run? What if someone has a complaint or feel like something isn't fair? Can THEY come straight to you and talk about it? Or do those managers stop them?"

"That's a good question, Harry. I do, actually, have an 'open door' policy. That is, anyone of the Estate, can make an appointment to see me. BUT, if their concern is an 'operational matter', they are instructed to address it as far as possible within proper channels. Before they get an appointment with me, they need to provide information about what action they took to correct the situation they are concerned about. If they do that, and they are wrongly ignored or dismissed by their management, then I tend to take corrective action... and management seldom again ignores a meaningful concern. If they fail to do that, and lie about it just to get my time, I tend to take other corrective action... and people seldom again fail to follow proper procedures.

"For the most part, we work from the assumption that everyone wants goods and services to flow smoothly, and everyone wants fair and equitable working conditions. If there's a way to improve those, no matter where the idea comes from, it is worth exploring. And people with good ideas should be encouraged and rewarded, not shut down."

At this point, the two of them had arrived back at the Chalet, where they landed outside the Mud Room once again. Deftly dodging Boris and Odessa, they put up their cloaks and brooms in the Mud Room, and entered the Kitchen briskly rubbing their hands together to ward off the chill. John and Oxsana stood there, handing them hot mugs of steaming warmth... cocoa for Harry, tea for Pavel.

"Harry, you have a guest waiting for you in the Front Room," Oxsana smiled. "Papa Pavel, perhaps you may want to invite him for luncheon?"

"Of course... I think. Who is it?"

"Harry's new friend from the village, Stashu. He came up to ask if Harry could go out to spend the afternoon with him. We told him you'd both be home soon, if he had time to wait. We could but ask," Oxsana said, as she steered Harry out to meet Stashu.

"That sounds fun, Papa. Would that be OK? I'd need to change first, of course, but could we eat then let Stashu show me around for a bit?" Harry asked excitedly.

"I don't see why not, son. Do you think you can manage to hang out together in the Village for a couple hours without brawling or otherwise disturbing the peace?" Pavel challenged in mock severity.

"Yes, sir," Harry rolled his eyes, "I suspect we could."

"Well, all right then. Go ask if the young man has eaten yet, and would he care to join us. In the meantime, I'm going to change as well. Enough business for one day." With that, Pavel headed up the stairs as Harry went out to greet his friend. Harry then went upstairs to change, and Stashu joined them for lunch before he and Harry took off for the Village.

Together they had a terrific day walking all about, meeting other kids in town, and visiting every shop worth visiting for a kid. Like Hogsmeade, the Village had a sweet shop, toy store, sports store, bakery, and other very worthwhile stops for the underage consumer. Harry told Stashu all about the school friends he was expecting tomorrow, and by the time the two of them parted ways as evening approached, they'd made tentative plans about perhaps all getting together the following afternoon.

Harry walked Stashu home and was introduced to his grandparents, behaving very respectfully, knowing that if he didn't he'd certainly hear about it. Once Stash went inside, Harry was grateful for the ability to blink, as he saved himself a considerable cold walk back home.

He was back to the Chalet by tea time, garnering approval from all as he sat and described his activities and discoveries.

By the time tea, and then dinner were over, Harry was nearly dozing on the couch in front of the living room fireplace, as the grownups went around putting finishing touches on their preparations for the arrival of their guests tomorrow. It seemed a perfect family ending, for such a homey holiday. Before long, Harry was sawing logs with total abandon, and John carried him up to bed.

Pavel wanded him into his sleepclothes, tucked him in, kissed him gently on top of the head, and whispered, "Rest well, little man. We love you."

Harry just smiled in his sleep as he snuggled tighter in his covers and mumbled back, "Ni- night, Papa. Love you..." and was out before Pavel reached the door.

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	26. Guests Arrive

**Guests Arrive**

The following morning, a crisp, clear, icy Saturday, Harry was nearly up before dawn. He actually awoke, knew he was far too early to do anything meaningful, and forced himself to go back to sleep until at least sunup when he would meander down to the Kitchen for breakfast.

Today, all his friends and their parents were arriving. Well... and Malfoy, of course. Somehow, though, things weren't going too badly with Draco these days. Ever since that business about framing him with the Mid-Term Answer Key, the two of them were getting along pretty well.

At 7:00 there was enough light outside for Harry to claim it was daytime, so quickly he got up, washed, and dressed in decidedly play clothes - hoping for the best - and headed down to breakfast. Papa was there sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, but John was still sleeping in.

"Morning, Papa!" Harry greeted, as he poured himself a cup of hot chocolate and a glass of milk. "When is everyone getting here? And please, oh pleeeease... tell me I don't have to dress up for their arrival!" Harry pleaded in his most pathetic voice.

"Good morning, my son," Pavel laughed, putting his paper down. "Well, I'll leave that up to you, then... Folks should be arriving anytime after 10. I thought all could use a bit of relaxation in the morning. I've sent portkeys for Severus and the Weasleys, but since the Grangers are muggles and apparating or even a portkey is a disconcerting way to travel the first few times, I thought we could go meet them at their home and bring them here by Blinking. I was going to ask if you'd be willing to go with me to meet them, and Blink Hermione here, while I transport her parents. For that, since you would be meeting Dr. and Dr. Granger for the first time in their home, you should be dressed in better than play clothes. However, if you prefer not to, I'm sure John could spare the time..."

"No, no, Papa... I'll change. That would be awesome, to go bring Hermione here. What about their luggage?" Harry grabbed some pastries from well beyond his reach at the table, bringing a glare from Pavel as the old man spatted his hand, and reached across to pass the platter to Harry.

"Young master, I KNOW you are really excited. I'm delighted you are so happy. But please don't think that's an excuse for losing track of simple table manners!" Pavel chuckled.

"Sorry, Papa. Wasn't paying attention. I'll do better," Harry apologized contritely. "I am just really excited. I've got so much to tell them, and there's so many things we can do and see."

"I understand," Pavel nodded. "All right. Well, why don't you go see if your brother has yet joined us in the land of the living, and I'll have breakfast set out by the time you get back, eh?"

"Yes, Papa... on my way!" Harry enthused, as he started to run for the stairs.

"There's no reason..." Papa's voice boomed behind him, as Harry skidded to a sedate walk...

"...for a young man to run in this house! Sorry, Papa!" Harry continued hollering back, as he reached the spiral stairs up to John's room.

"Cheeky scamp," Pavel laughingly muttered, as he returned to his coffee and newspaper.

* * *

Three hours later saw Harry, Pavel, and Dobby standing in their Living Room as Pavel cast Disillusionment on the three of them and shared the clear mental image of Hermione's location with the others. A moment later they walked from a tall hedged alleyway onto the street where the Granger's lived in a fine fenced red brick country style home on about an acre of lawn. Walking in the wrought iron gate up the flagstone path, they mounted the stone steps onto the porch, and rang the doorbell as if visiting from church.

Hermione delightedly opened the door greeting them with, "Hi Professor! Hey Harry! Hi Dobby! So good to see you!" as she gave Harry a big hug, before backing up a pace to admire his "new look".

"Don't say a word, Hermione. These clothes are NOT my idea!" Harry complained, even though he didn't have to wear a necktie. He was in a simple wizarding suit of dove gray slacks and longcoat, white turtleneck shirt, and black jodhpurs, with his royal blue cloak over all to keep warm.

"Don't fuss so, Harry. You look very smart," she laughed. "That's a good look for you! And Dobby, your ties are very stylish," she complimented, as Dobby had selected his very best neckties to visit Miss Hermione's muggle home. She led the way into their living room as she said, "Professor, it's so kind of you to have us. We've been looking forward to this so much! May I present my parents, Gerald and Jeanette Granger. Mom? Dad? This is Professor Doctor Konstantyn, and I think you've seen my friend Harry Potter at Diagon Alley this past fall. But I don't know if you were introduced."

Both Pavel and Harry bowed briefly as Pavel extended his hand to Mr. Granger first, then Mrs. Granger. "I am so pleased to meet you, and we are honored that you can come spend some time with us this holiday."

"OH! I'm so sorry, Dobby. This..." Hermione extended her hand to the little house elf... "is Dobby. He is a free elf who looks out for Harry, and a wonderful friend. These are my parents, Dobby."

Dobby blushed to the roots of his ears. "Dobby is honored to meet the parents of Miss Hermione. She is a wonderful young lady, and an excellent friend to Harry Potter." And he bowed deeply to the Grangers, dragging his neckties to the ground around his ankles.

"Well," Gerald said, "It is we who owe a debt of gratitude to you! Our practice is slow in the school hols, since families have better things to do than treat their teeth, and I can't remember when we last got away to any exotic locale for some family time."

"Well, kind sir," Pavel chuckled, "I'm not sure our home would qualify as an 'exotic locale' by any means, but it will be our pleasure to host this little week away so that our children and we can get acquainted and have some relaxation. Hermione is a wonderful young lady, and it gives me great comfort to count her among my son's best friends. Are we ready to depart? This mode of transportation should be much less disruptive than the alternatives, and Dobby can see to your luggage, putting it in your house for you."

"Our... house?" Jeanette repeated. "Do I understand you to say we shall have a house at our disposal?"

"Yes, kind lady," Pavel nodded. "The Chalet was my family's vacation, weekend, sort of country home. There are guest houses there for entertaining, and it seemed wise to let each family have their own accommodation and privacy for the time. There's even a little kitchen there stocked for your convenience, though meals will be served at the main house throughout the week. Let us first head to the Chalet, and then you can settle into your own accommodations. Ready? Just take my hands when you are. Harry? Living Room of the Chalet, you near the front door, eh?"

"Yes, Papa. Perfect. Hermione? Take my hand when you're ready..."

So, within seconds of one another, the Konstantyns and the Grangers found themselves standing comfortably in the Living Room of the Chalet, all aglow - even in daytime - with the golden woods and candle lights, the cubbyholes filled with small carvings and artwork, framing the comfortable couches and armchairs surrounding the great coffee table before the huge hearth and fireplace that took up most of the far wall.

"Oh, Professor!" Jeanette breathed, "this is lovely! It all looks like a wondrous ski lodge... or something from Santa's North Pole haunts!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger. My late wife loved decorating and designing. She did most of the hard work, and I enjoy building things when I've the time. I am so glad you like it. Would you like to take off your coats and have some tea or coffee? Or would you prefer to head home for the moment, and have the chance to unpack and situate yourselves a bit? You're probably curious, and we can meet here again at 1:00 if you like, when luncheon will be served."

The Granger parents looked at one another and did that "conversing without sound" thing long married couples can do, nodding in agreement that they'd like to see the house first. "I think we'll go see about getting unpacked first then, if that's no trouble. And please... call us Gerald and Jeanette? Hermione has told us so much about you, we feel as if we know you already."

"HA!" Pavel laughed with a quiet bark. "Then I'm sure you have far too good an impression of me, as she is a very kind young lady. However, I shall be delighted to address you as you ask, but only if you do me the honor of calling me Pavel. And... just one moment..." Pavel turned towards the Kitchen and raised his voice, "Ivan! Oxsana! Would you join us a moment, please?"

The couple came out from the Kitchen and approached the Grangers happily. Oxsana extended her hand in a warm handshake towards Gerald as John stopped a few paces short to bow with a smile. Oxsana embraced Jeanette with a double kiss, as John came and shook hands with them both.

"These are my son, Ivan Constantine, and my god daughter, his fiancee, Oxsana Brezynski. Most people call him John, so you have options. Hermione's parents, Mr. Gerald and Mrs. Jeanette Granger. Ivan also teaches at Hogwarts, and Oxsana works with the Ministry of Magic."

"A pleasure to meet you both, Doctors Granger," John said. "I'm more American in culture than most around here. Where I come from, dentists are all addressed as 'doctor', so..."

"Well, kind sir, we were just requesting that your father address us simply as Gerald and Jeanette, so please feel free... the both of you, to do the same," Gerald contributed.

"Our pleasure, dear friends," Oxsana accepted on their behalf. "Now please, if there's ANYTHING that can make your stay more enjoyable, please let us know. You have a house elf who will see to your needs as well. If you need or want anything in the house, or cannot find something... towels, toiletries, a cup of tea or coffee, please just ask out loud or call for assistance, and your helper should be there immediately."

Pavel took off his cloak as he said, "Harry, your coach should be waiting outside the door. Would you escort the Grangers to their house, and see them in? Show them the sights, and then you can come back so they can settle. All of you are welcome here at any time, and if Hermione wants to look about a bit, that's fine with me. I can call you to return as more guests arrive. All right?"

"That would be great, Papa! So... if Hermione's done when she settles in, you're saying we can explore a bit?"

"A bit, yes. But be prepared to return immediately to greet more guests, Harry. Don't get lost yet. All right?" Pavel added just that touch of warning to his voice making sure Harry realized he had duties to perform this morning.

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll be back immediately when you call."

"Thank you, son. You have fun. And mind the Grangers, please."

Harry couldn't suppress the eye roll as he dutifully answered, "Yes... sir..."

As Harry closed the front door behind them, they heard Pavel's voice ring out... "I saw that..."

Prompting Harry to reply, "Sorry, sir..." as the door latched shut.

In front of them stood a white enameled horse drawn sleigh, with a house elf dressed in bright reds, yellows, and greens, holding the reins. The passenger section was filled with furs and thick blankets, as well as being magically heated for their comfort. The matched pair of gray dappled Arabians stood quietly in their harness, covered with bells and polished brass fittings. This all came as a total surprise to Harry, as did the slicked down lane running alongside the flagstone walkways he'd seen the first day.

Harry stood politely aside as did Hermione's father, to offer a hand up the step for his wife and daughter, then mounting and covering the three of them in a warm woolly blanket. Harry got in, wrapped up, and said they were all set so the driver could walk on.

The horses clip-clopped jingling along in step with one another, the half mile or so down the lane to that centre house on the roundabout set aside for the Grangers. The mat before the front door welcomed them by name, as the driver had pulled up close enough that the passengers would dismount on to dry stable flagstones, rather than an icy roadway. Harry had dismounted first, allowing Mr. Granger to assist the ladies, as Harry went and opened the front door for them. Their luggage had all been taken up to the second floor for them, set in front of the appropriate bedroom door as determined by the monogrammed initials on the cases.

Harry got to play the consummate host as he showed the Grangers all the rooms and features, including the invisible curved glass door inset in the two-story glass wall at the back of the house leading to their "patio", the Kitchen along with its stores and tools, the closets and hampers holding linens or towels and such, and on upstairs to the bedrooms. Again, the open floor plan had a vast central great room with vaulted ceiling to the roof itself, with spiral wrought iron staircases to the second floor walkway leading off to four wings with bedrooms and bathrooms. Harry led the way to the bedrooms, opening the doors to view the bright sunlight streaming in from the snow covered countryside in view. The Master Bedroom was appointed like a first class lodge accommodation, with its own closets, dressing room, vanity and bathroom including a step-down tub that jetted water like a jacuzzi. Hermione's quarters were just a shade simpler, but still sumptuous, along with additional bedrooms for guests they may want to invite. The Grangers were overwhelmed with delight.

"We're so glad you could make the time to come and visit, and I know we'll all enjoy spending time together. But Papa also wanted you to have the chance to enjoy your own family time, and private time together, just to relax and unwind a bit without worrying about home and business. He'll be so happy to know you are pleased. And..." Harry looked outwards, towards the walkway and stairs for a moment, "Dimi? Are you there?"

A diminutive house elf, in estate livery appeared alongside Harry instantly, "Yes, Master Harry?" he bowed and smiled.

"This is the Granger Family, Dimi. They will be staying here this week, and I know you will help make them comfortable."

"Oh, yes, Master Harry," Dimi turned towards the Grangers in their room. "Dimi will be most happy to help you in any way. Please just call me if you need anything, or if you have a question. If you need a coach sleigh to go to the Village or food, tea, anything just call me, please."

"Thank you, Dimi," Jeanette smiled graciously, walked over and extended her hand. "It is so kind of you to help us this week. We'll be sure to call, if we need anything."

Dimi blushed to be greeted and thanked. Shaking her hand, he then bowed and with a, "You're too kind, Madame Granger," popped away a bit nonplussed.

Hermione and Harry both laughed. "Well, Mom," Hermione observed, "there's an elf that will love you for life! They're very loyal, and courtesy just melts them."

"So," Harry said, "would you like to remain here, unpack and settle in? Or would you rather return to the Chalet? Your time is entirely your own. Our other guests are expected over the next couple hours... the Weasleys, Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy, and Professor McGonagall."

Gerald spoke, after a smiling look at his wife, "I'm sure Hermione would like to wander around a bit and catch up on news with you, perhaps returning to the Chalet. I think Jeanette and I would as soon just relax here for a bit before luncheon, and head over to the Chalet then."

"That would be perfect, Dad!" Hermione bounced a bit in approval. "That OK with you, Harry?"

"Perfect! Come on, let's go then. Papa said we can explore as we like until he calls me when more guests arrive. Let me show you around."

So saying, Harry led the way out the front door again, asking Dimi to provide the sleigh so they could ride down to the village. Exiting the door, there was the sleigh, waiting patiently for them as the friendly driver elf smiled and nodded as they climbed in. Cheery jingling bells gave a festive air to the brief trip down the hill to the entrance of the village past the Boar's Tusk Tavern, the Livery Stable, and onwards to the town square. There was not a lot of traffic, whether vehicle or pedestrian, on the streets today. But horse drawn sleighs, small craft that looked like sailboats driven by an invisible wind, mounted riders astride horses, and even some silent motorcycle-like devices, drove sedately along the snow covered lanes.

They had just made one pass entirely through the center of the Village, out the other side, and were skirting the Village heading back along an outside perimeter lane, when Papa mind-spoke, _"The Weasley's have arrived, Harry. Time to come home."_

 _"Be right there, Papa," Harry responded. "Hermione is with me."_

 _"All right, son. That's fine."_

"Please return to the Chalet for more guests. Hermione and I need to head there right now. So we'll see you in a few minutes," Harry spoke to the driver as he took Hermione's hand. "We need to head back to the house. Ron and family have arrived. Ready?"

Hermione nodded, as Harry instantly blinked the two of them to the Kitchen of the Chalet.

"I didn't want to accidentally bump into anyone standing out there," Harry explained, as the Weasley crew milled about the Great Room admiring the view from all the windows.

Pavel, John, and Oxsana were already out there chatting among the boisterous clan, as handshakes were still being exchanged. Harry had met Bill and Charlie at some family gatherings in the past, but never really had a chance to spend time with them or get to know them. Charlie was still an apprentice dragon handler for the Department of Magical Creatures, Bill was also still training in curse breaking for Gringott's Bank. It took a very special personality to work well day to day with goblins, especially when focused on Dark Magic. Harry had never seen the whole flock in a single room before, and admired Mrs. Weasley's patience as she managed to keep up with at least three conversations at once.

The Twins had managed to sideline Pavel for just a moment, and Harry overheard, "Can we give it to him NOW, Professor?" from Fred.

"Please?" asked George.

"Please, Professor? You know things will get busy later," Fred wheedled.

"We've been dying to show him!" George concluded.

"Boys! You're impossible!" Pavel laughed. "Can't you even let your parents catch their breath?"

"Fred! George!" Molly Weasley called sharply. "Where's your manners?" she challenged, bustling over to pull them away from the Professor. "I'm so sorry, sir. They've just been so excited to come on this trip. I don't know what's wrong with them."

"No, no, Mrs. Weasley. I'm delighted!" Pavel continued to chuckle. "I'd like you to know, Fred and George are among my very favorite students at Hogwarts! Of course, that doesn't mean I can show them any preference, but I find them to be excellent company."

"Yeah, Mum. See? We're excellent company!" Fred taunted.

"Indeed!" Pavel agreed. "Which is why you get to spend so much of your otherwise 'spare time' with me."

"I thought those were 'detentions', Professor?" George mused.

"Potayto, potahto, Mr. Weasley," Pavel replied. "Very well, then. Fred and George have a gift to present to their father, and we must go to one of our greenhouses to see it. Is everyone willing?" Pavel paused to see everyone nodding. "It should only take a few minutes, and then we will see you to your house. All right? I fear they may burst from anticipation otherwise."

Harry took Pavel's overcloak off the hook at the front door, and politely held it for him to put on. Pavel gave him a quick hug as he secured it, and led the way out to where they found two horse-drawn sleighs awaiting them just beyond the paver stones. In and amongst all the hustle and bustle, Harry and Hermione had gotten to hug, greet, kiss or be kissed by Mrs. Weasley, and otherwise reacquaint themselves with the entire motley Weasley crew. Somehow, happy as Harry was when he was with his Konstantyn family, he always felt just a bit more "complete" when together with Ron and Hermione as well.

The two sleigh's jingled merrily as they turned right along a lane that ran the length of the Mews, where a great oval field stood covered by a "bubble" that looked rather like muggle plastic. The material was a magical equivalent, strong enough to hold up against weather, but translucent to allow sunlight to pass through. Passengers dismounted at the entrance, a double doored affair designed to keep the inside environment protected from outside air. Everyone was astonished to find that they were on a full regulation sized Quidditch Pitch, complete with hoops, regulation lines, and some seating along the sides. Rich green turf grew greedily throughout the field, and a few meters from the entryway, a tarpaulin covered the mysterious "gift" for Arthur Weasley.

"Have at it, boys!" Pavel encouraged, looking at the Twins and gesturing with his arm that the display was all theirs.

"Dad?" Fred began. "George and I have a present for you."

"Knowing how you love all things muggle... " George continued.

"We have, through GREAT personal effort..." Fred gestured, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"THIS!" George grabbed one side of the tarp, while Fred grabbed the other.

"TAH - DAHHH!" Fred fanfared, as together they swept the covering off...

The manual lawn mower, rakes, and plastic lawn leaf bags.

"This," George said, "is a muggle, mechanical harvester, or reaper, for grass called a 'lawn mower'."

"It cuts grass by rotating these flat blades, twisting against a bar at the bottom, powered by someone pushing the wheels through the grass, like so..." Fred demonstrated, trimming down a swath of turf, then turning about to cut his way back to Arthur.

"There you go, Dad. It's our present to you..." said George.

With a little help from Professor Konstantyn," finished Fred.

"Oh, my..." Arthur breathed, nearly overcome with amazement and joy. "For me? Really? Boys, I don't know how to thank you. May I have a go?"

"Of course!" Pavel laughed. "Boys, stand aside for your father."

Arthur happily grabbed hold of the two wooden handles atop the beam, as he started walking forward, watching the blades spin in the housing at the ground. Quickly, then slowly, then quickly again he paced forward, laughing joyfully as he saw the grass clippings dance from the blades through the air to be strewn all around his feet as he walked.

He pushed the mower back to it's original position, then asked, "And these other materials?"

"Those are for the trimmings, Dad," Fred reported.

"Yes, if you don't want the cut grass messing the lawn, you use the rake to gather them up, then..." George began.

"You dispose of them, using the plastic bags to contain and transport them." Fred finished.

"How clever!" Arthur nodded. "Thank you, boys. That's a wonderful gift. I shall have to examine it more closely at home. Wherever did you find it? How did you get it?"

"Um..." Fred wasn't sure how to answer, with his mother so close by.

"We did a little extra work for the Professor..." George contributed, knowing that if Molly knew they'd been punished, or what for, they'd likely feel her wrath before the day was out.

"Indeed," the Professor quickly affirmed. "They did some landscaping maintenance for the school, and this was the reward for their efforts. They thought you would enjoy it, and were most anxious to give it to you, as you've seen."

"Well, thank you, boys! That's lovely. Now, why don't we head to our homestead for the week, and get settled in?" Arthur led the way towards the sleighs.

"Perfect," Pavel nodded. "Luncheon will be served at 1:00 at the Chalet, and I'm sure you'd like to freshen up. The sleighs will be available for you anytime. Just speak any need you have in the house, and your house elf will provide for it, or answer any questions you may have.

"Well, I have one, Professor?" Ginny Weasley spoke up for the first time.

"And what might that be, Ms. Weasley?" Pavel responded, as together they were climbing back into the sleighs.

"It's about that Quidditch Pitch right there," she grinned. "You have any particular plans for it this week?"

"Well, I thought perhaps the lot of you may want to play a bit in your spare time. Don't want you getting rusty in your time away from school. And there are a few children in or from the Village who may want to play with you a bit. Harry has made some friends here in the past few days. Of course, most of them attend Durmstrang, and I'm sure you'd have no interest in playing Quidditch against students from another school... but still... perhaps..."

"No interest? HA! Sounds brilliant, Professor!" Ginny answered.

"Fine, then," Pavel said, as the sleighs pulled up in front of their house. He opened the door and bowed, saying, "Welcome home for the week! It's all yours!" as he stood aside. Again, luggage had been placed at each appropriate door, and Harry served as tour guide for the children as Pavel escorted Molly and Arthur to their "Honeymoon Suite".

Flabbergasted was the only word to describe the Weasley's reaction to their third floor bedroom suite, as their eyes went wide with pleasurable wonder. "How? This is just gorgeous, Professor. How kind!" Molly gushed.

"I'm glad you are pleased, madam. Think of this as another gift for you from your twins. They described a holiday location you try to get to, and how happy they were that you were going to be here for some relaxation together. When I asked for more detail on what you might enjoy, they provided it. This week there will be more than enough to amuse your children if you ever want to just lock up the house with yourselves inside, and spend some quality time together. I suspect your youngsters will primarily be at the Chalet, the Village, or somewhere touring, so please let us know anytime you'd like us to supervise, so that you can spend time on your own, whether here or travelling," Pavel bowed as he showed them all the features of the suite, the portal to and from the first floor, and then the Kitchen with all its supplies and equipment.

Pavel then excused himself to return to the Chalet, as Harry and Hermione stayed behind to enjoy their friends a bit longer. Together, Harry, Hermione, and Ron tried to figure out how they could get away privately for a while, so Harry could catch them up on all the news.

Before they could figure out a time and place, _Pavel mind-spoke to Harry, "Please blink back to the Chalet to greet Severus and Draco, who have just arrived."_

 _"Yes, Papa. Be right there," he answered._ "I've got to go for a bit, but I'll be back in just a few minutes. Severus and Draco have arrived, and we'll no doubt show them to their house, at the opposite end of the row from yours, Ron." So saying, Harry instantly blinked away.

As Harry arrived at the Chalet, Pavel, John, and Oxsana were greeting Severus and Draco warmly. Harry walked over and extended his hand to Draco with a gracious smile. It wasn't artificial looking, or over the top by any means. There had been a "family discussion" over breakfast, discussing the possible pros and cons of this visit with Malfoy. Pavel pointed out that there had been a gradual "thaw" in the relations between the boys in recent weeks, and that Severus and Draco were trying to blaze a bit of a new path. What's more, Harry and Draco honestly enjoyed a lot of the same things and, to a great extent, thought the same way. In short, Pavel declared that he had no interest in trying to dictate who Harry could have or not have as friends, but that just as his relationship had seen significant change with Severus, it would be good to be just as open to the possibility of change with Draco.

At breakfast, Papa hadn't threatened Harry, or said he "had to"... anything, regarding Draco. But he mentioned that a leader needed to be able to get along with all kinds of people, including those he'd not otherwise think of making friends with. He pointed out that Draco had qualities and knowledge that could help Harry a lot, if they managed to get along with each other, so perhaps this trip could be an opportunity to forge some new bonds. Maybe there were even seeds of a real friendship in there between them somehow.

Harry's main concern was that Draco could "be such an arse" to and about the Weasley's. It made it tough. Pavel said he understood, and he'd see what he could do about that... then sent Harry to the corner for ten minutes for inappropriate language at the breakfast table. At least Harry had the satisfaction of heaving a sigh and rolling his eyes, as he stood in the corner, though with Papa sitting right there he did manage to refrain from kicking the baseboards this time.

So now the moment of truth had come, as Draco and Severus stood in the Living Room. Oddly enough, Harry was moderately pleased to see them. Ever since that episode with the Answer Key, Draco hadn't hassled Harry much, and Harry had never felt much like hassling anyone. As long as no one was following him around trying to get him in trouble - which he usually managed to do perfectly well on his own - he could "live and let live" with the best of them.

Harry walked in to join Papa and John, as Pavel was putting his cloak on to accompany them to their Gasthaus. Harry greeted them warmly with a friendly smile, shook hands with Draco, and mentioned that there seemed a number of interesting things to do that should make the week go by happily.

Draco, for his part, was a bit torn. Part of him wanted, by habit, to feign nonchalant boredom with everything, whereas truth be told, the Chalet reminded him of a very exclusive ski resort. Stepping outside to be met by a horse drawn sleigh, with liveried driver, and a matched white pair in full bell harness was impressive, to say the least. Malfoy Manor was an elegant country house, and even boasted landscaping and two guest bungalows, but it wouldn't compare with this estate by a long chalk. Severus had made clear that it was a wise thing to handle this holiday well and make an ally of the Professor, as he was not a man without influence. His father, Lucius, would likely be extremely grateful one day, for any efforts Draco made to develop a good relationship with Pavel. There seemed to be more to this man than had yet met Draco's eye. So if that meant making nice to the Weasley pack, so be it. Politics was a discipline of supreme self-restraint.

The coach drew up to the Snape residence, and Pavel opened the door for them. Again, their luggage was already deposited at their bedroom doors, and Harry and Pavel showed their guests the features of the house. Pavel smiled broadly when he actually elicited a subvocal gasp from Severus as he opened the Study door for him. It was a perfect setting for the potions master to sit and work on the article he was writing. Pavel also told him that there was a research assistant house elf assigned to him all week, trained to proofread, transcribe, and who had access to ANY library or public research material that Severus asked for. Simply call Minuet, she would come and acquire any book, article, or parchment of which he had need.

Harry showed the house and its sliding doors, kitchen and snackage, to Draco. "By any chance, do you ski, Draco?"

"I have done, a time or two. We've taken holidays in Switzerland. But to tell the truth," he needlessly looked over his shoulder to be sure they weren't overheard, "...I'm rubbish at it. Father's not half bad, but I haven't been on skis nearly enough yet."

"Well," laughed Harry, "I'm sure you're better than I am. I've only been on skis once. But if you like skiing, we've got a whole half a mountain here in the back yard, and the Professor and John terraform the snow to make training slopes. I can see if we can do that some this week, if you feel like."

"Good idea, Potter. How is the Old Man at home, anyway? Less of a stick up his... um... is he a bit more relaxed?" Draco wasn't sure how informal to be in his conversation.

Harry just smiled, "He's always pretty relaxed at home. He laughs a lot, and plays games in playtime. But he's still hell on wheels about proper language and standing up when a lady or elder enters the room, that sort of thing. Oh... and dinner... we have to dress for dinner at night. Well, at least I have to. I suppose guests can wear whatever."

"Nah, I doubt it, 'dress for dinner' is pretty traditional with old families. I'm sure Snape will make me. The Weasley's will probably wear their best as well," Draco said.

"Well, all it means here is no jeans, no tee shirts, no trainers at the supper table. Anything else is fair game."

"Thanks for the heads up. So, what do we do now?" Draco asked, just as Pavel and Severus made their way to join them.

Pavel said, "Since it's a quarter to one, and luncheon will be served at one o'clock, I suggest you settle into your rooms, and ride the coach over to the Chalet in a few minutes. After luncheon, perhaps Harry would like to take whoever would care to go exploring a bit, out with the sleighs to see the Mews, then perhaps down to the Village for a stroll. The Village is very much like Hogsmeade, with some confectioners, a quidditch shop, bakeries and so on. They can even stop by the Boar's Tusk Tavern for a drink of something non-alcoholic, or a snack after a while. I'm sure Professor Snape can manage to muddle through the afternoon without your attentions, Mr. Malfoy? Eh?"

With this, Pavel backed away a step and gave a brief bow, as did Harry, and the two of them spun on their heel to walk out the front door.

As they approached the door, Pavel mind-spoke to Harry, _"When we get outside and you hear the door shut, just blink home to the Kitchen."_

Harry nodded his acknowledgment and obeyed. So smoothly did they synchronize their movements, that when Draco opened the door to ask if they needed to dress for lunch expecting them to be walking down the steps, instead he was faced with nothing but open space between him and the waiting coach. He actually stepped out onto the landing, looking left and right, then looking for footprints, before shaking his head and coming back in. "Now THAT... was just strange..." he thought to himself.

In just a few more minutes, jingling sleigh bells announced the arrival of the Grangers, the Weasleys, Severus, and Draco at the Chalet for luncheon.

It looked to be a very interesting meal, indeed...

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	27. Parent Teacher Conferences

**Parent Teacher Conferences**

Luncheon was a cheerful event, if a bit more boisterous than was usual in the Chalet. The house elves had outdone themselves preparing local dishes, including little note cards describing each for their visitors. There were also platters of sandwiches, cold cuts and dressings, along with fruits, breads, and rolls of all descriptions. Some of the food was served on the large oval table with room enough to seat everyone, and some was on a sideboard across the room. The table was laid in the Great Room, configured so that it looked as if it had always been just a big dining room. After the meal, furnishings would return to their accustomed places.

The adults were seated towards one end of the oval, making conversation convenient, and the children were able to seat themselves as they chose around the centre and other end. Draco seated himself between Severus and Harry, with Hermione on Harry's other side, followed by Ron, then the Twins, with Ginny across from Harry, and then Percy, Bill, and Charley sitting next to Mrs. Granger, and on to the adult contingent.

After dessert had been served, the children asked to be excused to go play outside. Pavel scanned the parental parties for any signs of objection, then seeing none granted permission as long as they didn't leave the "yard", including the space between the Chalet and the Gasthausen without permission. Running outside to play in the snow with shouts of glee, they discovered Boris and Odessa who thought the development heavenly.

The adults took their coffee with them as they migrated towards the couches and armchairs at the fireplace, allowing the dining table to be cleared with a quiet "pop", and reconfigure itself to a more moderate size with just a few surrounding chairs.

As Pavel walked over to the sideboard to refill his tea, Gerald Granger joined him quietly to say, "Jeanette and I would like a private word at your convenience." His tone and smile made clear that the requested interview was likely to be pleasant and friendly.

"Certainly, sir. I hope your house and arrangements meet with your approval?" he inquired, gently.

"Oh, goodness. We couldn't be more comfortable. You are a most gracious host, sir. In fact, Hermione has expressed a request that we would like to discuss with you. Nothing wrong at all, we just thought we'd like your input before we decided to approve or not." Gerald added lemon to his own tea, stirring, as they stood there for the moment to chat.

"Well, I should be free and here through the afternoon. Perhaps we could get together in my Study," Pavel indicated the study door with a glance, "at 2:30 or so?"

"Thank you, Pavel. That would be fine," Hermione's father nodded as he meandered to his targeted overstuffed chair.

Severus had left his cup and saucer at the table when they arose, and addressed the assembled group. "Thank you for a delicious meal. It is wonderful to have met you, Mr. and Mrs. Gran..." he watched the Grangers gently shake their heads, "ah, yes... Gerald and Jeanette. While we are alone here, allow me to mention, your daughter is a brilliant student, and a pleasure to have in class. For reasons I... erm... prefer not to discuss, I cannot say that in the children's presence, but I assure you, you can be very proud of her performance." He turned to smile at Arthur and Molly, "As can you, by the way. Particularly, the Twins. They are positively brilliant in potions, but I'll deny ever saying that publicly. But, for the nonce, please excuse me and accept my apologies as I want to make use of the marvelous accommodation to do some work at our quarters. Pavel? If I may, for the moment, transfer the supervision of Draco to you or John? Just let me know when I am next in charge of him."

"Delighted, Severus," Pavel answered. "Dinner will be served here at 8:00, I suspect the children may visit the Village or do some flying on the property this afternoon, but beyond that there's no particular plans."

"Wonderful, then. So, if you will all excuse me, I shall see you at suppertime." Severus gave a brief bow, and headed for the door.

"Feel free to..." John called to him...

"I believe I shall walk, after so full a lunch, thank you, John," Severus almost smiled, as he walked out the door.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, in case any are wondering, I've no detailed agenda for this time together. Mainly, I've wanted to get to know you, and allow you to get to know me, all of us actually, as we've taken Harry into our family and he is now my heir. I've known Albus and Minerva for decades, John has known them all his life, though up to now we had had no interaction with Hogwarts.

"You and your children have been the only true 'family' that Harry had ever known in his life. The Dursley's may have been relatives, guardians, or providers of housing, but I assure you they were never a family for the boy. Some of what I want to say may be unknown to you Gerald and Jeanette, but perhaps Hermione has shared some of it. Are you aware that she took part in some 'adventures' with Harry and Ron last year?"

The Grangers smiled, nodding as Jeanette said, "She came home for the summer holidays a bit more reflective than usual, and over time she shared that she'd taken part in a rather frightening episode having to do with a dangerous teacher, and an evil wizard. She had a nightmare or two, and when we woke her from it, she said it was the mountain troll dream again. But she wouldn't go into any detail, saying it was all over and nothing to worry about. We try to put our worries aside, realizing that her training in magic may well include frightening things that we as muggles aren't exposed to."

"Ah, yes. Well, her experiences, just as Ron's, are likely to be a bit different, even a bit riskier than other witches or wizards, because of the close association with Harry. Ron and Hermione are, as they themselves describe it, 'best mates'. They support one another, accompany one another, comfort one another, and advise one another anytime they are in need. I cannot express my gratitude for the role they play in Harry's life."

These words struck Molly Weasley like a blow, as she erupted in a laugh and sat back in her chair. "Oh, Pavel, I don't know about that! 'Gratitude' may not be the correct feeling to have. As far as OUR brood go, 'trepidation' may be more appropriate. Have you heard about our boys' 'rescue' of Harry using a flying muggle car at the beginning of the year? I swear when they all get TOGETHER, they do twice as much mischief as they would ever do alone!"

"Ah, well yes, Molly. You're right about that. But of course, that's always the way of children, is it not? But their rescue, as it turns out, was very apt. Harry will never return to that house of horrors again. And it's precisely his recovery from such memories as that house, and his safety despite the determined efforts of powerful enemies, that make me so grateful to all of you and your children. Anyway, it is just knowing that Ivan, Oxsana, and I are unknown quantities to you all, and how close Harry has brought us to your children, that made me want to give us all the opportunity to get to know one another much better in this week." Pavel nodded.

"Well," Molly continued, "I have to admit, I've had concerns. Arthur and I have heard about you ever since school started. I found it hard to understand how I could detect Ron minding his p's and q's more closely out of concern for getting in trouble with you..." which drew a surprised chuckle from Pavel, but no interruption, as Molly continued, "At the same time as the Twins would write about this 'way cool professor and his son', referring to you two... and then... to cap it all off... have Percy tell us how much he was learning in your class and how he admired you. Now, there's nobody... except perhaps Albus or Minerva... that get approval ratings from so diverse a sample of our children. I wondered if you were just clever... 'playing politics' to get the approval of students."

"I see," Pavel nodded, approving her reasoning. "And what have you concluded now?"

Molly laughed, "I suspect you are the 'immovable object' to their 'irresistible force'. Just watching you interact with them, with ALL of them, I can see why they respect and trust you. You seem truly to enjoy them and their presence, you approve of them and they know it, and you exude a sort of 'stability'... 'predictability'... that I know they appreciate. Like they can count on you."

Pavel's eyebrows raised a bit at such an analysis. "Well put, madame. I think that's a very accurate assessment."

"I understand, however," Arthur began, "that there have been a number more adventures, even this far along in the school year. So, are you attempting to curtail their mischief, or...?" and his voice trailed off as he took another sip of tea and decided to let Pavel complete the question.

Pavel smiled, "Let me be frank... With all of you... Hogwarts teaches a course on 'Divination'. Granted, that course is not as well taught as it could be at present, but that does not detract from the truth that there is a 'current' through time and history. Some call it 'fate', some 'destiny'... it manifests in a number of prognostic skills whether tea leaves, astrology, runes, other disciplines. Some elements of fate are subject to moments of clarity we call 'prophecy'.

"Harry, now as my son, has a life woven tightly with threads of fate, concerning which there have been made some prophecies. Harry has enemies, more than one, and they are dangerous. Up to now, the interference and presence of those enemies had skewed, perverted the course of his childhood denying him the simple joys and challenges of a little boy growing up in a healthy family. The Dursley's, his former guardians, from whom your children..." Pavel smiled with a grateful nod to Arthur and Molly, "granted him a timely and welcome rescue, abused and neglected him, treating him as a 'freak', making him feel less than worthless for 10 uninterrupted years.

"Hogwarts had been his only stable referent for a happy home, along with the wonderful care, love, and welcome he's known in the Weasley household. But anywhere in the magical world of England, there is always the spectre over him of being 'the boy who lived', whether that makes him a hero, or a victim/target. Beyond which, he is a wizard of extraordinary raw power. He has entered my family initially by his request and my acceptance of him as apprentice and magical heir. He has since entered much more deeply into my heart and that of our family, and... extraordinary as he is in many ways... enjoys the experience of being treated as a 'normal growing gifted boy prone to mischief from time to time'.

"I have... this family has... access to significant resources, particularly magical resources, that can compensate somewhat for the enemies Harry has, and the destiny he carries with him. None of that, however, should ever interfere with the relationships, the friendship and trust, that Harry has built for these years with you and your children. One motive for this trip is to assure you of that, to allow you to get to know us, and us you. Another is to be sure that you are at peace with the continuing association between Harry and your children."

At this, Molly drew breath to object, as Pavel could clearly tell. He smiled and raised his hand, "I am fully aware, Molly, that you and Arthur likely understand these risks, and have accepted them. You and Arthur committed your lives to the frontlines in the battle between darkness and light decades ago. I know that... and that your children are of such spirit that I have no doubt of their allegiance. But the Grangers deserve to be informed as well. "

Pavel turned to Gerald and Jeanette, "Harry has dangerous enemies that put his life at risk. Those enemies have less than no concern for collateral damage. Hermione is a noble and courageous young lady, who has determined to stand by Harry through thick and thin, as has Ron. Such proximity to Harry, places her at risk. Whether as collateral damage, or even as a specific target as a person of value to him, her dedication to this friendship makes her a potential target alongside him."

"Well," Jeanette said, "that explains a bit," and she nodded looking towards her husband.

"How so, madame?" Pavel inquired.

"During the summer, and sometimes when we've corresponded, she's mentioned the risks around Harry. That business with the Sorcerer's Stone last year, and the mountain troll, and some things she mentioned about a Basilisk this year..." she interrupted herself, "Thank you, by the way, Pavel. I understand she made some 'poor judgments' here and there, regarding danger to herself. You held her accountable and drew her up short a time or two. I'm grateful..."

Pavel, wearing his quiet uninterrupted smile, nodded his acknowledgment, saluting with his teacup.

"When she was home this summer, she'd prompt discussions around 'friendship', and 'loyalty', and standing by her principles and values. She asked how you handle it when you want to do what is right, and you know what is right, but you're afraid? I've seldom been in such a situation, but..."

"But I have," Gerald picked up the conversation. "I've served in the military and seen combat. I will not judge any person who is conquered by their fear. The body can sometimes rebel against the will, and refuse to enter in to pain or danger. But we aspire to be people who will do what is right, no matter the cost. The definition of 'courage' is not to be 'fearless'. That's foolishness. Courage is to do what is right, even in the immediate presence of fear. The loyalty of friendship should never draw one into to actions that are wrong, evil, immoral. But there is no shame in being loyal to a friend performing actions that are true, good, right, and honorable... even if they are fearsome. If that is her decision and situation, then it is her responsibility to learn how to reduce the risks, avoid such confrontations when possible, and/or prevail in any head to head conflict. If you lack the skills, you become a liability rather than an asset."

Jeanette nodded, "I can't say the discussion was at all comfortable for me... but I had to agree, albeit grudgingly."

"I think you have hit the nail on the head, dear friends. Hermione has chosen to stand in a place where there is risk, and is endeavoring to improve her skills for her own protection and those she cares about. The Weasley's have stood here before, and have known some of the unique circumstances and risks that faced Harry since his birth, though I did not know whether you had or not. I didn't know if you were aware of some of these magical conflicts or not. So I want to be very transparent with you, while we still had some possibility of realigning their relationships, about the potential risks of Hermione being 'best mates' with a wizard like Harry." Pavel spoke seriously.

The Grangers looked at one another intently, seemed to come to some accord on something, and nodded as Jeanette said, "Pavel, we had intended to have a private conversation with you on a matter, but we think this would be better here now. Arthur? Molly? We'd appreciate your input and thoughts as well. Hermione asked us this past week, if we would consider asking you and Oxsana to stand as her godparents. Now, she has godparents through our church, appointed at her infant christening. But she has shared with us that she would like magical godparents, to help guide her development and maturing as a magic user. She was quite serious about it, and wanted us to know that godparents may play a very active role in the upbringing of a young person. We wanted to know how you felt about this, before we made any response."

Arthur and Molly smiled and sat back, sipping their tea diplomatically, as they were treated to the rare sight of Pavel Konstantyn truly surprised. He set his cup and saucer down on the table, looked downwards pondering, and sat deeply back into his chair. "I should like to have Ivan and Oxsana join us, if that's acceptable?"

"Certainly," Gerald nodded.

"Ivan? Oxsana? Would you please come and sit with us a moment?" and he waited as they joined him. "Hermione Granger has requested that her parents consider having you, Oxsana, stand as her godmother, and me her godfather. What comes to your mind in considering that?"

Oxsana blinked with something approaching, but not quite, shock. "Oh, my. That would be such a privilege. She is such a special young lady, I'd be honored. I've not been a godmother before, but I do love her like a younger sister."

"You have been a very great blessing to her," Jeanette smiled. "It was so funny, as we'd talk sometimes over the break. Hermione has always shared things with me, and we get along extremely well for a mother and daughter. But in that I am not magical, that interaction between her feelings, her fears and concerns, and her abilities... well, I really can't address a lot of that. The strictly emotional... yes, of course. But how the flow of magic, and having control the expressions of power of that... I'm quite at a loss. She has appreciated your time and counsel, and wanted to express that to me without my taking offense! She felt so awkward!" Jeanette chuckled. "But I did not. I completely understand the feeling, and am entirely grateful that she has you to share with, and people like Minerva McGonagall, and others at Hogwarts."

"So..." Pavel mused, "on the face of it, you have no objections to our standing as her magical godparents?"

"I don't think we have any reason to," Gerald said. "But we want to be careful. We know, in the magical world, oaths and covenants are quite serious things. What would being her godparents entail?"

"In that you are her birth parents," Pavel began, "you would be the primary 'definers of relationship'. Generally, godparents stand in _loco parentis_ when you are not, or cannot be, present. Should Hermione be orphaned before her majority, generally a godparent would be appointed guardian. If you want to hold or have complete authority, and contact us only when you want us to have input, that is one way to handle it. If you would like matters 'magical' to be determined by us, and general other matters by yourselves, that's another way we could do it. If you prefer, we could all be 'in the loop', and consult when advisable. You may want us to be able to authorize things, such as field trips or such. Or you may prefer to reserve that to yourselves. It really depends on you and your comfort levels with us."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned..." Jeanette began, glancing over at Gerald, "I have no hesitation granting you full authority as Hermione's godparents, trusting that should you feel some issue is best addressed by us, you will so refer it. Also, of course, I'd like to stay informed of anything of passing significance. You seem to share the best of our values, and seeing the influence you've had already on Hermione, it gives me great comfort to entrust her care more fully to someone who has so much contact with all of the children. What do you think, Gerald?"

"I agree. Particularly in light of our earlier discussions of potential risk... Pavel? I would like you and Oxsana to help Hermione grow up as you would raise her, particularly in that she's determined to remain loyal to Harry and Hogwarts. Help her learn to be as strong as she needs to be, without compromising the values I know we all hold dear." Gerald turned to Arthur and Molly, asking, "Do you feel this is a wise course? How would you advise us, muggles as we are?"

Arthur responded, "First of all, I'm delighted that you are muggles and take such an active interest in Hermione's school experience. As to 'godparents' in general, it is wonderful for children to have alternative trusted adults they can depend on for advice, or comfort, or encouragement from time to time. While Pavel is not officially a godfather to any of ours, we can tell he's been mentoring at least Ron for a while, and we see the impact. I..." Arthur looked at Molly here, to see her nodding... "and Molly would have no hesitation to make such an arrangement. Let me just ask one thing, that might not otherwise come up... especially given the nature of our children. Do all of you agree on the nature of children's accountability and discipline? I know the Konstantyn's and we do, as the matter has come up with Ron a time or two already. Most magical families engage in corporal punishment, and not all muggle families do, so this may be a matter for review between you."

"That is a very helpful point, Arthur," Pavel nodded, turning to Gerald and Jeanette. "Do you mean you would like us to deal with Hermione as though she were a Konstantyn daughter? Or as though we were a Granger parent? And what is your/her disciplinary outlook?"

Jeanette answered, "While it is always difficult to move beyond one's own comfort zone, I think the entire point of this exercise is to expand Hermione's magical resources. So, I think the answer would be to treat her as a Konstantyn daughter. Now, to be frank, Hermione has always been an amazingly compliant child. She's not been spanked since she entered school age. A few swats here and there as a toddler not to step off the curb, or reach into fire, and such. But she is sensitive enough that a harsh word, or tone of disappointment, can generally dissolve her to tears. A momentary lapse of courtesy based on temper has always been effectively met by a brief time out or some corner time. Up to now, we've really not had to deal with overt disobedience or rebellion, so there's not been any battle of wills between us. She's always been a bit of a 'goody two shoes', and we've not seen that as a weakness. We've just been grateful for it. She always seeks to make us proud, and we try always to express our satisfaction and pride in her."

"Well, let me then disclose my own approach to discipline," Pavel replied. "For one thing, Ivan can affirm that it is very difficult to grow up and develop one's own character in a boarding school, when your parent teaches there. You just can't develop your own ethic and sense of judgment if you know your parent is going to hold you accountable for every sneeze, or demerit. Therefore, with Harry as with Ivan before him, the only school matters I address with discipline are those that come to me 'officially' as a parent. That is, I respond to any 'note home from Professor McGonagall'. Now, she and I speak daily... so I often know 'how Harry is doing' or when he misbehaves. But he answers only to his professors, or his Head of House, unless and until that Head of House sends a note home to me by the same criteria as she would send home for Ron, Hermione, the Twins, Percy or any other Gryffindor.

"A second feature of 'Konstantyn discipline' is that I, of my own authority, never demand corporal punishment. There are a set of 'standing house rules' that govern my family, from generations long gone by, and for violation of those rules there is non-negotiable corporal response. It is forbidden that we lie, cheat, steal, break our sworn word, or defy proper authority. The rule, and its consequences, are as binding on me as they are on Harry, John, Oxsana, or anyone else who subscribes to the 'code' of our House. Both Ron and Hermione, by the way, have voluntarily chosen to subscribe to that code of behavior... though they are not bound to its consequences. Knowing that it was consistent with their own values, and that it would be hard for Harry to live by it without exception, if they were not subject to it as well, they chose to make themselves accountable to me for adherence to those rules.

"Which brings us to our third and last point. I very seldom use corporal punishment at all. I much prefer 'creative obnoxious sanctions'. Lines may be helpful, essays more so, but generally I find tedious, nasty, tiring, demanding chores to be a much more effective deterrent to misbehavior than mere threats of pain. Generally, if I administer corporal punishment at all, it is at the specific request of the miscreant, petitioned for as an alternative to their sentenced penalty.

"Should you decide to approve Hermione's request, and if it is your will that I treat her as a 'Konstantyn daughter', this would be the model of her discipline, fundamentally the same rules as Harry has, or Ivan or Oxsana had," Pavel concluded.

"Pfft!" Oxsana stage whispered, "I don't remember anything at all 'voluntary' about the hiding I took for missing curfew that night!"

Pavel sighed, "Really? Really little one? We should discuss this here and now?" he turned to her saying this in an exasperated tone. "So be it! You suggest an excellent illustration!" he turned back to the Grangers and narrated, "Oxsana refers to an occasion in her teens. I am, as you know, her godfather. Her father was my partner in our work and was killed in the line of duty when she was a small child. Her mother is a delightful, brilliant, and infinitely patient woman who raised this wonderful child on her own. I provided whatever support I could when needed, in honor of her father who was as kin to me. Oxsana is both brilliant and headstrong, and at about 15 or 16, began to think she no longer required the guidance of her mother, coming to consider 'obedience' not to be a filial duty, but rather an inconvenience to her freedom and lifestyle. This unfortunate tendency manifested itself most often in her disobedience or defiance in returning home at the time her mother required on school nights.

"To keep a short story short... after much soul searching and anguish on her mother's part, advice and encouragement on my part, there came a point where her mother declared enough to be enough, and asked that I step in... as much for the sake of the child's safety, as any violation of parental authority. It was not safe for an attractive young lady, such as Oxsana, to be out gallivanting late at night. I came, waiting up with her mother in one of her vigils wondering when Oxsana would deign to grace her home with her presence, and we had a little discussion. We clarified the rules, her mother's authority and concerns, her defiance and disobedience, our expectations as to her improved behavior, and quite clear consequences if such improvement was not immediate and dramatic.

"For a number of weeks, Oxsana reformed with diligence. But then there was the night to which she has referred, whereupon she chose to test our resolve and discovered, to her regret, that I never ever 'threaten'. I 'promise'. Returning home an hour late on a school night, her mother had called me and we waited for her on the porch. When she appeared, there was very little to be said. She and I walked to the shed where her father had always kept a belt hanging on the wall for the express purpose of her behavioral motivation, and she discovered that she was indeed, not too old for a well-tanned backside. I heard nothing more of curfew problems or disrespectful backtalk thereafter.

"Have I spoken falsely, or misrepresented anything, my dear?" Pavel turned to Oxsana with a sweet smile.

"No," she responded, curtly. "I'm just saying... I don't recall much 'voluntary' about the episode," she laughed.

"That, wasn't simple misbehavior. That was persistent defiance, and that takes response beyond the voluntary," Pavel answered.

"True enough, Papa Pavel," and Oxsana's crystal laugh rang through the room, showing that she held no grudges about anything.

"So, dear friends. Have you any questions, anything you would like to clarify, from either of us?" Pavel turned again to the Grangers.

"I think that about covers everything we've wanted to know," Gerald said. "Hon?" he looked at his wife, "you?"

Jeanette asked, "Wait a moment. Just so I'm clear on all this... are we proposing that Hermione could be chastised that same way? That one of you could strike our baby with a belt? That's a bit, erm, archaic, is it not? I mean, this is the 20th Century after all!"

"Thank you so much for speaking your mind clearly and freely, Jeanette. I think the most direct answer to your question is that Hermione is unlikely ever to be struck with leather at all. That stipulation is part of a Konstantyn family covenant of integrity and honor that Hermione is not, and will not be, bound to even as my god daughter. Oxsana's situation was based on the promise and warning she was given when her mother and I made things clear to her ahead of time, that her consequences would be precisely those her father would require.

"As to cultural differences of the modern versus more medieval or archaic outlook on corporal punishment, that's a long and interesting discussion we need not engage at the moment. Suffice it to say that both the culture of magic - given the practical immediacy and intimate connection between an individual's body, mind, emotions, and will in the flow of potentially life-threatening power through their person, and the self-discipline required to do so safely - and the culture of Eastern Europe on family values and discipline - both recognize a value in the moderated and judicious use of pain in training. It has always struck me as a bit ironic that at the very time many cultures have come to the 'modern' view, to condemn physical chastisement in any form, rendering even a moderated spanking a form of 'illegal violence' perpetrated against the human rights of a child... those same cultures are experiencing a disturbing upsurge in juvenile violence, youth suicide, cutting, drug and alcohol abuse and addiction by youth, scarification, branding, bulimia and anorexia... all self-harming forms of violence or inflicting pain, perpetrated by youth against themselves or one another..." Pavel's voice trailed off for a moment in a sad tone.

"Ah well! Nothing there we can fix. We shall have to see, in 100 or 200 years how this experiment in 'non-contact discipline' works out for the modernists. Anyway, as to how any of this has impact on Hermione, it is simple. We seldom use corporal punishment, and I can assure you, Hermione will never be battered or assaulted. She may exercise her privilege to request a physical sanction in place of a social one, as some consequence of wrongdoing. Even should she make such a petition, that is not always granted. Sometimes, a consequence such as being grounded or restricted for a period of time, or denied a privilege for some period, is designed to be a more effective means of teaching or motivating, than simply to endure moderated pain in its place. For the sake of your peace of mind, I cannot foresee any circumstance whereby she would be chastened with a belt. That was, for Oxsana, an issue among her father, me, and herself. Knowing it is not part of your family culture, I see no reason the situation would ever arise."

"Very well, then," Jeanette nodded. "How would this work? What would we do from here?"

Pavel gave a mild shrug, "It's not complicated. Together, the five of us would engage in making a covenant, a verbal exchange of oaths, of expectations and responsibilities. Then we would file some paperwork with both the Ministry of Magic in England, and - if we do this here this week - with the appropriate office at the Ministry here. Magic itself will witness our exchange and new relationships and accountability. That permits me to extend some of my... um... 'magical protection', my covering, my authority and power, over her... as it extends over Oxsana, Ivan, and Harry. Think of it as a form of 'shield' or 'umbrella'.

"I think that will be wonderful, then. Thank you so much for considering it," Gerald said, as Jeanette nodded.

"Oh, no. Thank you for allowing us this privilege. She is a wonderful young lady, and it is a great honor for you to consider us to play this role in her life," Pavel replied.

"Indeed. I am so pleased and honored. She's wonderful!" Oxsana echoed.

"Well then!" Pavel rose, stretching his arms and back after the discussion. "What say we check on the children and see what mayhem they've managed to generate as yet?"

"Probably an EXCELLENT idea, Pavel!" Arthur agreed, as he headed towards the front door...

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! Season's Greetings whoever, wherever you are, Gentle Reader, in whatever way you celebrate life, love and family in these days! Apologies for taking so long between the last chapter and this one... No excuses, but it's been a bit joyfully busy here. (Grandchildren are a WONDERFUL distraction!) Please review, if you have the moment, and we'll see if I can get back in the groove as we embark on this New Year! Grace to you! - Mort_


	28. Sorties and Ambassadors

**Sorties and Ambassadors**

Arthur and Pavel walked out along the pavestones, meandering calmly towards the sounds of raucous laughter coming from down the hill towards the Mews. When they got past the landscaping, the men saw snowballs flying wildly between two snow forts clearly built with the assistance of magic. Bill had joined one of the competing teams, while Charley and Percy stood safely off to the side and out of the line of fire laughing at their antics.

As Pavel and Arthur slowly strolled towards the war zone, Arthur, still looking straight ahead at the children, said, "I'm only going to say this once, Pavel... and I know it's true for both Molly and me... We're very grateful for the time and interest you've taken in our children. We've been talking with Albus and Minerva a bit, and we've gotten a fairly comprehensive picture of what brought you and Ivan here. We have no hesitation in asking that you treat our children, particularly those currently at Hogwarts, as your godchildren. We have full confidence that you will refer anything appropriate to us to be addressed, and we also have full confidence in asking that you go ahead and address whatever seems fitting in our absence. Feel free to treat each of them as 'Konstantyn children', and know that we are willing to - and have from time to time - flooed to Hogwarts to discipline them when appropriate, though more frequently they are sent home for the weekend when the situation required it."

"I am very grateful for and humbled by your confidence, Arthur. Are you sure about Molly's view on this? I sense she held some reservations about me, my background, or my motivations," Pavel replied.

"She and I had talked before we came. Minerva and Albus had allayed most of those concerns already. Molly and I just wanted to see how you interacted with the children, and it was amazing to see how deep and heartfelt is their respect for you. It's difficult indeed to gain the Twins' respect and admiration. Few can do it. Really, I've only seen Severus do so. Albus and Minerva have been like family to all of ours since they were born. So, well... welcome to the family, Pavel," Arthur extended his hand, which Pavel shook solemnly.

"When we get to the children, Arthur, would you be kind enough to walk the gaggle back to the house, while I blink back to spend a few minutes preparing Harry to take any who'd like to go, into the Village? I've thought they may enjoy spending the afternoon wandering about a bit, perhaps doing a little shopping, and getting something to eat or drink for a snack there. We plan dinner for 7:00. What time do you think appropriate to have them come back from the Village?" Pavel asked.

"Well, it's about 2:30 now, and what time will it turn dark here?" Arthus asked.

"The sun will drop below the horizon by 4:30 or so, but it won't go full dark until an hour or so later," Pavel answered.

"Well, then, I think 5:00 or so seems a reasonable time to return home, don't you?" Arthur asked.

"Sounds good to me," Pavel nodded, as they caught up to the children's location. Pavel just kept walking out into the centre of the snowy field between the two snow ramparts dividing the combatants. Hermione, Harry, the Twins, and Bill were squared off against Ron, Charley, Draco, and Ginny, as Boris and Odessa ran back and forth between the two snow walls, trying to snatch snowballs in midair.

Arthur pulled up short of the battlefield, deciding he had no interest in stopping a slushy snowball with either ear in this cold, while Pavel just strolled nonchalantly out in the midst of flying missiles, that miraculously seemed to miss him by inches at a time. Arriving at the dead centre spot of the space, he raised both hands above his shoulders, palms facing the combatants and called "Time OUT!", at which point all snow in motion stopped! It was an amazing scene to Arthur, as at least a dozen flung snowballs at varying stages of their arcing progress, stopped dead in midair, hanging suspended like so many Christmas tree ornaments.

Turning to Harry's snowfort, Pavel called out, "Harry? Would you kindly join me here? And would the rest of you be interested in visiting the Village? It is rather like Hogsmeade. You may stand up to answer, no snowballs will move until I release them," he chuckled.

Harry made his way to Pavel's side, as all the rest of the group stood and declared that they'd enjoy heading to the Village very much.

"Very well. Harry and I need to take a few moments at home before you go. If you will finish up your war here expeditiously, please come back to the house for a moment with Mr. Weasley, and the sleigh's can transport you to town," and he and Harry walked off the field of honor, returning to Arthur's location. "You may want to duck back down now..." as again he raised his voice to shout, "Time IN!" and the snowballs picked up right where they'd left off. "Thank you, Arthur, we shall see you in just a few minutes, if you will excuse us," Pavel said, with a short bow. Whereupon he and Harry simultaneously Blinked back to the Chalet.

"Come," Pavel said, as he and Harry materialized in the Great Room of the Chalet. Harry followed Pavel into his Study, where Pavel went to a set of shelves housing a variety of artifacts, boxes, and statuary, carefully to remove an intricately carved chest about 12 inches high, 8 inches deep, and 18 inches wide, with brass fittings, hinges and latch. Pavel muttered a subaudible incantation as he opened the box, to reveal jewelry in a variety of forms, materials, and degrees of decoration. He removed a single, simple, gold signet ring from the top tray of the box, then secured and levitated the box back to its position on the shelf.

Pavel called Harry over, and solemnly handed him the ring. "Have a look, Harry," he said, as he placed it into the palm of the boy's hand.

Harry held a gold signet ring, with the Konstantyn family crest engraved on a shield, engraved in _bas relief_ on its face. He had never really gotten the chance to look very closely at Pavel's ring, but now, holding this one in his hand, he compared the two. Pavel's signet looked just like this one, but a bit larger. The crests were identical, as was the gold tone hue of the overall highly polished surface.

"It's beautiful, Papa," Harry said, turning the jewel in his hands catching the sunlight through the windows.

"Put it on the ring finger of your right hand, Harry," Pavel instructed.

Harry obeyed, and watched the ring glow with a brilliant radiance as it heated up in contact with his skin. The warmth was startling, though not uncomfortable, and the boy could feel power flow through his hand as some current of magic flowed from the ring all through his body. For several seconds after the glow disappeared, the tingling sensation persisted.

"What... what is this?" Harry asked with just the slightest tone of trepidation.

"Congratulations, Harry. I've just presented you with your Ring. That is your 'Scion's Ring'. As you can see, it looks just like my own, the ring you've seen kissed by more than one of my retainers. It is the emblem of our office, our rank, our... identity and relationship to the Estate and the Family. Now, make a fist like this..." Pavel instructed, demonstrating with his own ring, "and bring it to touch mine, face to face, flat."

Harry did so, executing what looked for all the world like a slow motion 'fist bump'. When the surfaces of the two crests, Pavel's and Harry's, made contact... a brilliant flash of light, almost like a lightning flash in the room, exploded as the rings momentarily clung together, seeming to weld their hands in place. The light seemed not only to flash ON and OVER them, but in some odd way it flashed THROUGH them. And then... it was gone and their hands were released.

"There, it is done," Pavel said, apparently slightly out of breath.

"What just happened, Papa?" Harry asked. "What IS this?" he asked, looking at the ring as he lifted it into view. "I mean, I can see what it is... a signet ring just like yours. But... but... what IS it? What's all this magic tied up in it?"

"As I said, Harry, it is an emblem symbolic of your relationship with me and the magic of this House. But it is more than an emblem, it is an artifact. I have empowered it and it has keyed itself to you, now. You now have the ability to make commitments in the name of this Estate. Over time, your authority will increase. For the moment, this places the financial resources of the Estate at your disposal.

"I would like you to accompany the children to the Village and enjoy yourselves until teatime. You may eat, shop, tour about, and you, Harry, will make payment for all goods and services by imprinting the final bill with your signet. Behold..." Pavel took out a piece of parchment and demonstrated, placing the flat surface of the ring on his finger without removing it, flat down on the paper. When he removed his fist, a neat seal of red wax bounded on its circumference by a band of gold wax had been deposited on the parchment. "Now, do the same with your hand," Pavel instructed. He watched as Harry did so, depositing a slightly smaller red wax seal, circumscribed by a ring of silver wax, on the parchment. "You can see, my ring and yours both give the crest, differing only in size and circumscription. This seal, pays any bill in my domain. It will also identify you as my son, should you encounter any need for authorities to recognize you. Any questions?"

Harry thought for a moment or two, then asked, "What rules, what are your instructions or limits to this, sir?"

"Nothing specific. Simply use good judgment. This is the resource to entertain and host your friends, and you should be mindful that you now represent me and this family on this Estate. Behave generously, graciously, responsibly, and be prepared to justify any decisions you make," Pavel smiled as he nodded encouragement.

"Wow. Thank you, Papa. I've never had anything like this before..." Harry breathed.

"Few people do, my son," Pavel chuckled. "Now... we have gifts for your friends. They should arrive any moment. There are garment boxes at the front door with each of their names on them. They are Estate Cloaks, like your royal blue crested cloak, with a Rune Coin fastener for those who've not yet received one. Please ask our guests to use these cloaks in place of their own, both for their comfort - since they're charmed to keep them warm - and that the crest and coins will allow for our communication, and carries the language charm for them, and will identify them as our guests, hopefully avoiding any difficulties such as you had with Stashu Zdniewsky on your first visit to the Village. Needless to say, of course..."

Harry shook his head laughing, "No fear, Papa. We'll be on perfect behavior. I promise. I have no intention or desire of repeating THAT lesson, thank you very much."

"Very well, son. I think I hear everyone arriving now. Go distribute our gifts, please."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, as he could still feel the tingle of the ring on his finger. He distributed the cloaks among all the Weasleys, Hermione, and Draco. Pavel took a moment to wish them well and remind them that as his guests, they were ambassadors representing both him and Hogwarts to the Village and her residents. Harry placed the cloaks they had brought from home into the boxes and banished them back to their own houses, and led the merry troop to the waiting sleighs outside, as they engaged in lively discussion of what they'd like to do first... eat, shop, or sightsee.

Having just engaged in a messy game of "smash snowball", they decided first to stop at the Boar's Tusk Tavern for steaming mugs of hot chocolate and some snacks, planning out in greater detail the rest of their visit. Stashu walked by, seeing them through the window, waving at Harry when he caught his eye. Harry beckoned him in happily, introduced him to the group, and invited him to join them all. He refrained from making any disparaging remarks about Hogwarts, and after a few minutes his expertise and knowledge of local hangouts, customs, and products made him a valued and welcome addition to the party.

Warmed and ready for action, Harry went to the landlord to settle their bill, and for the first time, used the Scion's Signet to pay for all they had ordered, along with crediting a gratuity for the service. Harry's eyes glittered as he watched the ring flash briefly, depositing its red sealing wax crest ringed by silver.

 _"Hmmm, I wonder if this thing has a spending limit?" Harry thought_ , as slowly he turned to consider the shopping possibilities of the Village, and his friends joined him. He wondered if he should find that out in the next couple hours.

Hmmmm...

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	29. Village Life, Host of Home and Hearth

**Village Life**

Together, the group climbed into the sleighs awaiting them outside the Boar's Tusk, having enfolded Stashu into the group. After a few minutes' discussion of potential destinations, they decided to head first to the Quidditch Shop. Everyone but Hermione felt as if they'd died and gone to heaven. Even the elder Weasleys, Charley and Bill, were avid quidditch fans and players, thoroughly enjoying this foray into the quidditch passions of Eastern Europe. The magazines captured their attention, being filled with pictures and articles about Bulgarian Quidditch Seeker Viktor Krum.

Carefully, Harry kept track of everyone's interests, mentally noting what single item each expressed a private desire to own. He was prudent enough to know better than to select expensive items, but he could see the Twins eyeing a quidditch match game where they could compete with one another, and a magazine about Viktor Krum that Ron wanted. There was _Quidditch: A History of the Sport_ , that even Hermione seemed interested in. The older boys were admiring some flying gloves, made of dragonhide, that kept hands warm or cool, allowed them to breathe, yet were still watertight and had magical enhancement to the palms and fingers that could grip a broomstick in bad conditions. Draco and Ginny both were looking at the practice snitches, including some higher end ones that had more complex evasive maneuvers built in. Quickly, quietly, and carefully, Harry swept behind them collecting up all these items to place on a side counter, while he caught the shopkeeper's eye.

"Please bag these up quietly, sir. I shall be taking them with me, but I'd rather not be observed." Harry spoke in low tones.

"Certainly, sir. My pleasure. I'll see to it immediately." The clerk nodded his polite bow, sweeping the items off the counter into a basket he held.

Harry walked away continuing to browse, until the clerk returned to that side counter with his bill and a small package, about the size of a deck of cards, already wrapped and shrunk down for easy transport.

"Here you are, sir," the clerk nodded another bow.

"Thank you very much," Harry replied, affixing his seal to the bottom of the parchment. Harry had noticed that Stashu hadn't seemed so eager looking around the store.

"Stash, don't you play quidditch?" Harry asked.

"Oh, sure. In fact, I'm Seeker for my House at Durmstrang. But my allowance is pretty meager, so I don't find 'window shopping' too satisfying. There's too much I'd love to have, that I cannot. So why torment myself?" he shrugged good naturedly.

Harry laughed, "I know you won't believe this, but I know EXACTLY what that's like. I was worse off than that just two years ago."

"You're right, I cannot believe that. His Grace has always been known for his kindness and generosity. Oh, he's strict, too... but only to wrongdoing. By the way, please tell him I did as he asked and spoke to my Grandfather when I got home. I even told him about what happened," he blushed a moment and looked down with a smile.

"Oh, no! Oh, Stashu, please tell me he didn't..." Harry spoke with alarm.

"He didn't!" Stashu interrupted. "At least not much. I ASKED him to come to the barn with me, and told him everything. I also told him what His Grace said, and I realized I'd been acting the fool for a long time. So, I apologized, told him I was unworthy of all he and Grandmama were doing for me, and I'd been ungrateful in my grief. I asked for his forgiveness and then I bent over a bale, just as His Grace had had me do. I told Didus I deserved whatever he gave me, and I waited."

"So what happened?" Harry asked, when the recitation had just stopped dead.

"He walked over and gave me three hard swats, over my trousers, just with his hand. Then he turned me around to face him, said, 'Those were for inconveniencing His Grace,' and then laughed and hugged me until we both cried. Wednesday, he and I are going hunting together, and I can hardly wait."

"HA!" Harry said, rubbing his backside. "There was a waste of a sore lickin'! You went home and 'fessed up anyhow!"

"No, Harry, it wasn't a waste. I've never had anyone care so much about me as to do that, or talk to me as His Grace did. It was thinking about all that, that got me to obey your papa, and open up to Didus." Stashu stuck out his right hand, to shake. Harry responded in kind, and after the two of them shook hands, Stashu looked down to see the Scion's Ring on Harry's finger. Stash turned Harry's hand, taking it in both of his and looked down at that ring for a moment, then drew it upwards as he bent and kissed Harry's ring. Harry looked on in a bit of shock as Stashu said, "I thank you, my liege. And I shall be your bondsman for life, when the time comes."

Harry felt that surge and far off roll of thunder as when Magic witnesses an oath, and he knew something very important and serious had just happened. But also, somehow, he knew this was neither the time nor place to discuss it. Harry let Stashu release his hand and turn as if a bit embarrassed.

"Hey, let me ask you," Harry began, as if nothing had happened, "if you were to buy anything in this store that you liked, what would it be?"

"Oh, me? I would get a pair of those weatherproof heated goggles. They're terrific in rain, sleet, or snow. You can see clearly no matter what's going on! But they're a bit out of my league... but one day, I'll save up and get a pair."

"Ah, good to know. Never seen those before. I wonder if they can handle glasses, or if they come in a prescription form for semi-blind Seekers like me!" Harry laughed at himself, taking his glasses off and pretending he couldn't see Stashu any more.

"I bet they do!" Stash laughed in return.

"Anyway, why don't you see if the gang is about ready to go, and we'll head to your next recommended highlight!" Harry said. As Stashu wandered off to heed Harry's suggestion, Harry whispered to the shopkeeper saying he'd like two pair of the goggles they'd discussed, and when the clerk returned with the items and bill, Harry sealed it, putting everything away in his pockets, including receipts.

They went to the confectioner's, where he invited all to select a bag of their choice, and paid the bill telling them it was on the instructions of the Professor. Then they visited a clothing store, where everyone was fascinated by the local fashions, so different than England. He decided not to try to buy anything, but ask Pavel how to do so when he got home.

They then went to the Autolivery, a merchant of vehicles, unique in their experience since the proprietor stocked both magical and muggle modes of transport. There were automobiles, regular muggle cars, as well as motorcycles, snowmobiles, snowboards, sleds, skis, flying carpets, and brooms.

"Oh guys!" Ron exclaimed, "We have GOT to bring Dad HERE! He'd go crazy here!"

"Oh no," Percy shook his head. "We'd never get him OUT once he got in. Are you kidding?"

Everyone laughed, agreeing with the observation.

Everyone but Hermione and Percy found themselves staring at the newest sports broom on display. Wicked fast, along with incredibly maneuverable. Each of them indulged in just the briefest fantasy of what this would be like to ride in competition.

A salesman came over and walked up to Harry. Noticing Harry's ring, the middle aged man took Harry's hand, bowed and brushed the ring briefly with his lips. "How wonderful to see you here, young master. I hope our service has given satisfaction," the man said, as he subtly guided Harry and this conversation away from the group for privacy.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Harry answered, a bit confused.

"Well, I trust the delivery was made satisfactorily, wasn't it, milord? We delivered them four days ago, just as His Grace requested. 16 brooms, of just that model, with the parental adjustment accessory pack, for safety, just as he asked."

"Ah!" Harry thought quickly on his feet. Four days ago, they were still at Hogwarts. Papa must have ordered brooms, and not mentioned it to him. "Thank you, sir. I'm sure all is as it should be. I shall inquire about your delivery when I return home, but I'm sure if anything were out of order, you'd have heard by now. Thank you for your time and service."

"Our pleasure, my liege." The man bowed, stepped back a pace, and walked away crisply.

"Right then!" Harry returned to his friends. "What say we have another warm drink to fortify ourselves for the cold trip home, and be on our way? It's a quarter past four now, and Papa said we should be back by five."

Everyone agreed on the plan, so they stopped in a tea shop for tea, cocoa, and some light snacks. The sleighs awaited them outside the shop entrance, and they all bundled under the warm blankets to be lulled nearly to sleep by the rhythmic chimes of the jingle bells on the horses' harness.

They first dropped off Stashu, agreeing to see him again soon and thanking him for his gracious tour hosting. Then, Harry took each of the guests to their own house, saying he'd see them for Tea at the Chalet in a few minutes. Once all were deposited safely in their Gasthausen, Harry blinked home, saving the drivers one unnecessary trip.

* * *

"Papa! You home?" Harry yelled when he'd blinked into the living room.

"In here, son," Pavel hollared back, from his desk in the Study where he'd been working. "Do I gather you all had a nice afternoon?" he inquired with a smile.

"Very! And I've discovered something," Harry gave him a sly look.

"What's that?" Pavel's eyebrows reflected his confusion.

"I've discovered I have the sneakiest Papa in the world!" he exclaimed, dashing over to Pavel to give him a huge hug.

Pavel laughed, catching Harry and lifting him onto his lap to enjoy a momentary private snuggle. "Well, such things have been said of me before, but seldom in such a tone of joy! What are you talking about, you daft boy?"

"We stopped by the Autolivery shop, just to see everything..."

"Oh, that..."

"'Oh, that...'" Harry echoed. "And the manager came over and asked if we'd received the delivery all right."

"Oh, well, yes... About that..." Pavel cleared his throat looking for the first time ever in Harry's experience, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Not showing any mercy at all, Harry just giggled and said, "Is there something you meant to tell me, Papa?"

"You Scamp! It was, as you clearly have figured out, intended as a surprise. But we thought perhaps this coming week we could get up a scratch game of Quidditch between this group and some of the Village lads and ladies. We have a number of talented players here, and there's a standard Quidditch arena at the edge of the Village. I've bought brooms and equipment for two complete teams."

"Papa, you're the BEST EVER! And OH, that reminds me, I need some of your 'sneaky' help." Harry climbed off his father's lap and emptied his pockets, showing off the items he'd gotten at the Quidditch Store, and quickly writing notes to label each one with, so they'd keep them straight. "These are the things everyone wanted, and I bought them on the sly. But you need to give them to them, maybe tomorrow, at the Thanksgiving Feast? I wouldn't know how to do it without them feeling all embarrassed or something. I'm sure you could work something out though."

"I see a pair of goggles here for Stashu... and... you?" Pavel said, inspecting all this loot.

"Yes, sir. That also reminds me, Stashu wanted me to tell you about him and his grandfather." So Harry settled down in a chair to relate what had happened after they had all parted ways the other day. He told him how happy Stashu was about it, and how grateful. But then his voice became very serious when he reported that last bit of conversation when Stash saw his Ring. "Papa, what's a bondsman? Why did Stashu call me his leige? And why did I hear the roll of thunder when he said what he did?"

Pavel's face took on a look of great emotional satisfaction and pride. In fact, to Harry's way of thinking, he looked very close to tears. Pavel rose, saying, "Follow me, son." They walked into the Kitchen, where John and Oxsana were preparing dozens of little deviled eggs for tomorrow. They turned and welcomed Pavel and Harry when they walked in. Pavel then said, "Now, Harry, repeat what you've just told me about you and Stashu, that last part. They know what transpired the other day between us all."

So Harry repeated the story, and again asked what it was all about.

Both John and Oxsana just looked dumbstruck, smiling when he finished his recitation.

"Well congratulations, Harry!" John said.

"Indeed, well done, little man," Oxsana added.

"What ARE you TALKING about? Somebody please tell me what's going on?" Harry cried out in his frustration.

"I'll try to keep this simple, Harry," Pavel began. "The other day, you sacrificed yourself on behalf of a citizen of this Estate. You took responsibility not only for yourself and your actions, but also to protect HIM with your very person, your body, if necessary. That is a very special kind of caring, a special kind of leadership, to intercede on behalf of another even to your own detriment. This entire Estate works on such bonds, on relationships of mutual loyalty. Whether people are peers, or superior/subordinate, or subordinate/superior, the bonds that hold this Estate secure are our willingness to sacrifice ourselves for the good of the other.

"You, Harry, are a child. You are still in your formation. So is Stashu. And yet, the other day you placed yourself, knowingly, at risk on his behalf... and paid the price for it. You made a true sacrifice on his behalf. That's why, when you give the grace gift of a personal sacrifice for another... that gift cannot be devalued by a 'quick magical fix'. You had to heal up naturally, Ivan or I could not render you magical comforts, or else the gift would have less value. Just as when we faced Professor Snape's cane together, that sacrificial act of remorse and justice could not be cheapened by any short cuts.

"Anyway, when you did that for Stashu, and he did the same in return for you, you began the establishment of a bond between you. It's a magical bond woven deeply in the fabric of this Estate and the magic that holds it together. You committed yourselves in loyalty to one another. Today, when he saw your ring, his heart moved him to speak words to your service. You are, or will be, his liege lord. A bondsman is a citizen of this Estate who swears fealty and service for life, to the Lord of the Estate. He is too young to swear to his bond as yet. He cannot do so until he is an adult. But he has declared his intention. Just as you heard Horsemaster Zankiw declare that he was... 'my man... that he would serve me, and now my heir, by his life or by his death, until the end...' that is the essence of the Bondsman's oath, a lifetime of service. You heard Magic itself witness Stashu's declaration of his intention to serve you in that way. That is a very sacred thing, Harry. Very sacred. It is rare beyond words for Magic to affirm such a thing between two boys."

"So... what does this all mean, Papa?" Harry looked a bit confused.

"Nothing different than yesterday or tomorrow, my son. Just keep growing, learning, experiencing, and following your heart. To ME, it means you are the proper heir for this Estate. And it makes me very proud that you can already show enough loyalty and protection for one of our citizens, to prompt such a reply from his heart, and for Magic to witness the bond. Beyond that, just keep growing and learning. All right?"

"All right... I think..." Harry chuckled.

"Hey, Squirt. It's just a rare thing to have happen so young. I'm really proud of you..." John said, ruffling Harry's hair. Pavel flashed Ivan a quick look, to which he responded. "But don't get a swelled head about it. I'm _not_ about to kiss your ring... or your a-"

As Pavel quickly interrupted with, "IVAN! Don't even THINK about..."

"Sorry, Papa," he looked up sheepishly, as they all laughed. "Forgot you were there a moment..."

"Indeed! NOW," Papa clapped his hands and scrubbed them in satisfaction, "Let's prepare for our guests coming to tea, shall we? Harry, go wash up please, and we can lay tea out on the center table of the Great Room seating ourselves comfortably wherever we find a good seat, yes?"

"Sounds good, Papa," John agreed.

"And in a few minutes," Pavel spoke as he headed towards his Study to put his desk back in order, "we shall welcome our last house guest for the holiday.

* * *

 **Host of Home and Hearth**

At 5:00 exactly, Harry, all freshly scrubbed up and in his comfortable clothes, opened the front door of the Chalet to welcome the Weasleys, the Grangers, Severus and Draco, and... Minerva McGonagall.

"Ah! Come in, come in, my dear friends!" Pavel exclaimed. "Please hand us your coats and cloaks, and be comfortable!" as Pavel, Harry, John and Oxsana made short work of everyone's cold weather gear, hanging them on pegs to the right of the front door. Magic transmuted the pegs all into hangers, and a closet door opened conveniently to admit everything neatly.

Tea time went by very smoothly, as everyone marveled at the sumptuous spread laid out by the house elves, and John, Oxsana, and Pavel were kept busy identifying different delicacies of the local cuisine. For those of less adventurous bent, there were plenty of traditional easy to spot teatime standards like finger sandwiches and small cakes. The adults were well entertained hearing of the youngsters' adventures in the town, and how much they enjoyed the guided touring of Stashu Zdniewsky.

Minerva asked how Harry had gotten acquainted with him, and Pavel gave him no help at all in relating the tale. John and Oxsana sat back thoroughly enjoying Harry's discomfiture as he described the beginning of this wonderful friendship with two black eyes and bloody noses. He tried to gloss over some of the details in the Livery Stable, but a cleared throat from Pavel prompted candor. Since he knew everyone here like family, but for the elder Weasley boys and Hermione's parents, he just laughed and pushed on with the - mostly - unvarnished truth.

The Twins roared with laughter, and clapped Harry on the back with sturdy congratulations!

"Hey, mate! That's how you secure a friend for life!" Fred observed.

"Really! When you stand by someone like that, they never forget it!" George agreed.

"Truer words were never spoken, boys." John nodded, beaming proudly on Harry.

"Ah, that reminds me, ladies and gentlemen," Pavel began. "Does anyone here have a more than passing interest in Quidditch?"

That prompted a mad rush of agreement and enthusiastic endorsements, by nearly all the assembled company. Gerald and Jeanette Granger looked a bit puzzled, as Hermione turned to them saying, "I've described the game to you, remember? Rather like football and volleyball combined, but played flying on broomsticks? Think of three dimensional Polo perhaps?"

"Well," Pavel continued, I've booked the Quidditch Pitch in town for a pick up game on Tuesday, if you think we could scrape together a team here. There's more than enough young players in town... including, if I'm not mistaken, your young Stashu."

This announcement was met with great excitement, as everyone but Hermione and Percy seemed anxious to play. Even Minerva looked a bit envious.

Pavel laughed at that, saying, "Perhaps we could even provide a little Senior Division action ourselves if you like, Min. Do you play, Arthur? Molly?"

Molly answered, "I did 100 years ago, but I don't ride much now. Arthur, however, would probably love to give it a go. What say, hon?"

"Oh, I don't know, dear. It's certainly been a while..." Mr. Weasley blushed becomingly.

"Oh, come now, Arthur," Pavel prompted, "Certainly if an old geezer like me can crawl up on a broom..."

"OOooooo... shame on you, Professor!" Fred laughed, pointing a finger his way.

"Don't let him con you, Dad! He could make 'Veteran Pro' if he had a mind to..." George continued.

"He's mean on a broom, we've seen him fly..." Fred carried on.

"Like a bird he is..." George finished.

"Pfft! You exaggerate, boys!" Pavel dismissed their comments.

"But still, if you're interested, I provide these..." and boxes appeared along the front wall of the Great Room. Each containing the Baluga 3000, the model broom they were all oogling in the showroom. "Each of you are welcome to one. There is a parental modification control module in each box as well, that your elders may use to put limits on its performance, as they see fit. Percy, Hermione, you too... whether you play Quidditch or not, there may be a time you need a good broom. These... are good brooms. Bill, Charley... everyone, please. Arthur, please. Minerva, of course." Pavel watched smiling as each youngster, Arthur, and Minerva walked over and took a broom from a box, admiring her sweet lines and upswept design."

"Professor? How many teams will we field, sir? You have two Seekers here?" Draco asked, politely.

"Vell, we can adjust as we please. I have no difficulty in fielding a team with two Seekers and two snitches, as there are two Seekers among our Village youth as well. Or, we may be able to make up two entire teams among ourselves, especially if we mix old-people 'Veterans' with you young bucks... and does..." Pavel added, with a glance at Ginny, who he knew to be a talented player in her own right. "Oh, and also, there are these..." and Pavel caused each of Harry's gifts to materialize, wrapped, in front of the appropriate youngster.

"Just so parents do not feel I am indulging the children unfairly, please know that when I sponsor a team or game, I provide equipment for both teams, so that includes the opposition. The Youth Athletic Center is receiving equal benefit. This is just something we do for the Village and the Estate, so don't feel any hesitation."

"My goodness, Pavel..." Molly exclaimed laughing, "I thought we were coming for an American Thanksgiving, but this all seems much more like Christmas!"

"Ah, my dear, please believe me when I say... I must spend so much time doing serious things in my life, or being the 'strict disciplinarian' in my role as teacher... I cannot tell you how much joy I get from 'spoiling guests' just a little bit, when I can be here at home and 'let my hair down' as they say."

John agreed, "That's totally true, Molly. He used to do the same with me, as a kid. We'd have these wild house parties at the holidays or the summer hols. He'd have a bunch of my friends here from school, and none of them would believe he was Deputy Head at Durmstrang, or that he had such an awful reputation there."

"Thank you, my son... I think..." Pavel furrowed his brows, unsure if he'd just been complimented or insulted.

Oxsana took the opportunity to bring the teapot over, asking if any wanted a refill.

"Harry," Pavel said, "Why don't you take your things and your friends up to your room and enjoy some free time, while us old fogies just get to sit down here and relax together until the dinner arrives. In deference to your entreaties, we need not 'dress' for dinner this evening. We'll just eat informally down here, buffet style for tonight. Tomorrow, however, for the Feast... ve dress! Yes?"

"Oh, thank you, Papa. That would be super! Come on, gang. Let's head to my room!" Harry started off...

"Ack! Straighten up as you go, please. Brooms back in boxes, paper in the trash... Manners, Harry..." Pavel admonished.

"Yes, Papa, sorry..." as Harry led the way cleaning their debris, before leading his troop up the stairs.

Bill and Charley chose to remain in the Living Room with the "adult contingent" rather than accompanying their brethren upstairs, and suddenly the house seemed much more quiet and sedate.

"I don't know how you all do it," Gerald Granger said. "Just an hour in the company of such a group exhausts me. How do you live at Hogwarts 24 hours a day, or maintain sanity with so active a family as yours, Arthur... Molly? We often feel Hermione outnumbers us, don't we Jeanette? And she's just an only child!"

Pavel laughed, and sat back to let others carry the conversation. Arthur picked up the ball, and gradually Bill and Charley took part in discussion, so that by the time Dinner arrived, everyone had become well acquainted and comfortable in one another's company.

Minerva, on arrival, had made clear that in this house it was perfectly acceptable to address her as Aunt Min, or Aunt Minerva, since she'd known more than half these children from the day they were born. Severus had not been overly loquacious, but managed a comment or two through the discussions. Topics ranged from child rearing, to magical politics, to foods, to fashions, and ultimately to Severus' article and the research he was doing.

When Supper arrived, the serving table just transmuted from the Tea service to a wonderful Buffet of dinner entrees and side dishes. Pavel suggested they serve first, and then he'd call down the thundering herd. They did so, and once the children were served he announced he'd allow a rare privilege, if the children wanted to eat in Harry's room together, he would permit it. After tomorrow, the Tent Pavilion would be open for all to use as a Dining Hall, but for tonight, this was acceptable.

The children whooped as though granted tickets to the Circus, and so some semblance of order was maintained for the meal. As the evening wound down, everyone has a wonderful time, the house elves were kept busy picking up and putting down filled and cleaned plates of delightful foods, ultimately it came to coffee, pudding, and cognac.

At about 10:00, everyone was quite happy, totally full, and feeling more than ready to call it a night. Pavel called the children down. Harry, Pavel, John, and Oxsana again played footmen as coats and capes were returned to their wearers, and all their guests climbed aboard the sleighs for their brief rides home.

"Goodnight all, see you in the morning," Pavel waved at the door.

"Remember our plans for tomorrow," Harry called right behind him, as he, too, waved them off for the night. _"And if everything goes right," Harry thought to himself, "tomorrow will be a day long remembered. Let's just hope my plot comes off without a hitch. I know the Twins will come through. We'll only need a couple of uninterrupted hours in the_ _morning."_

And so the door of the Chalet closed, Oxsana blinked to her own home, and the Konstantyn's retired to a well-deserved night's rest. Little did Pavel or John suspect what the morrow would bring... Harry had a plan.

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	30. It's a Small World

**It's A Small World**

By 7:00 Sunday morning, the Chalet was buzzing with activity as John, Oxsana, and a brigade of house elves blinked into and out of the Kitchen methodically preparing, inspecting, then transporting what seemed like a metric tonne of food into the Pavillion at the back. The full American Thanksgiving Banquet was being arranged, then held in stasis, on the serving tables of what could only be called a Banquet Hall behind the Kitchen and Mud Room.

Magic being what it is, the moderate sized tent, once entered, revealed itself to be quite accommodating for multiple tables and chairs, and a buffet style serving table at least 20 feet long. Inexhaustable candles and torches lit the interior, the decor was glorious... all done in ivory silk and gold trim, the seating composed of tables for six at a time, arranged in a cluster so that conversation could bridge tables without shouting.

After hearing Harry's tale about Stashu the night before, Pavel had dispatched a courier with his hand written invitation to join them for the Feast, to the Zdniewskys. It would be a good occasion to let Stashu's grandparents meet Harry and his friends, and their families.

Harry got up, washed, dressed, and was downstairs in the Kitchen snagging a cup of cocoa by 7:30.

"Morning' Famberly," he mumbled, munching on a small danish as he tried to stay in an out of the way corner sitting at the Kitchen Table were Papa was reading his paper drinking coffee.

"Try not to mumble with your mouth full, son," Pavel laughed, putting the paper down and tousling his hair affectionately.

"Fowwy, Papa," he replied spitting just a couple tiny crumbs from his lips, having missed Pavel's point entirely.

Pavel didn't try to follow up, just shook his head saying, "What, pray, are your plans for the morning? At Noon I want you back and changed for the Feast. Ivan plans to serve at 1:00 in the afternoon."

"Well, if it's ok, some of the guys wanted to try out our new brooms down at our greenhouse Quidditch pitch near the Mews, I wanted to play around a while with Ron, Hermione and Draco, maybe exploring a bit. Over all nothing much. _Harry mind-spoke to Pavel, "I think the Twins are going to try to break through the protections of the Pavilion, just for the fun of it."_

 _Pavel replied, "I see. Well, as long as they've been warned, that all sounds pretty harmless."_ Aloud, he continued, "Well, don't get in any trouble, and be home on time. Other than that, we've no work today, so just have fun.

"OK, Papa," he replied, then called to John and Oxsana, "I'll be on time for the Feast, brother mine. Don't eat it all before we get there!"

"Pfft! As if... Now you stay out of trouble, Squirt. I'm too busy for rescues today!" John good naturedly chided back.

Harry went to the Mud Room to get on his plain cloak and stepped outside. He mind-spoke to Hermione, Draco, and Ron, _"I've just gotten clear of the parental units here, telling them we're going to go exploring a bit together... which is TRUE. Are you guys clear?"_

 _Hermione answered, "Yes, Harry. Mom and Dad are drinking coffee and having a bite. They're fine with me heading off with you guys, but where are we going?"_

 _"Yeah, Harry..." Draco said, getting accustomed to the mind link he could use thanks to the Runed Coin he'd been given. "Severus is fine with me leaving him alone so he can work. But what's this 'plan' you go on about?"_

 _"I'm all set too, Harry," Ron said. The Twins are going to start messing around about the Pavilion in a half hour or so. I've talked to Mum and Da and am free to go. They figure as long as I'm with you it's fine, Ginny's not up yet, and the elder brothers are all drinking coffee in the Kitchen here."_

 _"Good, good. Listen, I know I haven't told you everything yet, but I needed to preserve your 'plausible deniability' in case I get in trouble for this. Meet me at the Granger's front door, and I'll be right there."_

Both Ron and Draco headed out the fronts of their houses and turned towards Hermione in between them. They'd just reached her, when Harry blinked to just a few feet up the walkway from them. Finally, the four of them were together, and walked innocently down the pathway towards the landscaped traffic roundabout in front of them. Boris and Odessa thought this provided an excellent opportunity for play, as the children did not particularly want to wear their pawprints all over their clothing. Harry had asked them to wear their regular cloaks, but keep their Rune Coins with them, stuck to their skin.

Checking that everyone was ready, Harry nodded saying, "All right, let's go." Excitedly he drew his wand for a moment to cast Disallusionment on them, rendering them invisible, had the three of them grasp his hands and... BLINK! In the next moment, they found themselves standing outside the Starbucks Coffee Bar on the Avenue Paul Seramy, on the eastern side of Paris. Ducking briefly into a side alley, Harry removed their invisibility and led them to the Cafe door.

Excitedly, Harry led them in to have a seat as he said, "Welcome, my friends... to Euro Disney!" Local time was 8:50, and the gates would open at 9:00.

The looks on his friends' faces was absolutely priceless. Expressions ranged from awestruck admiration and shock on Ron's, to terror on Hermione's. Draco, not being so accustomed to Harry's abilities, was a bit incredulous.

"O my GOD, Harry! What have you done?" Hermione whispered in urgent panic.

"Wicked cool, mate!" Ron looked at their surroundings.

"What are you playing at, Potter?" Draco asked, not really believing it. "Where are we really?"

"We are sitting at the Starbucks right outside a main gate of Euro Disney in Paris. In a few minutes, I will take us to the Thunder Mountain roller coaster attraction, from which we will ride the Riverboat at Thunder Mesa, and then, if there's time, we'll ride one time round the entire park on the Disneyland Railroad. How does all that sound?"

"Potter?" Draco paused, looking around, realizing that he could see surrounding signs as both French and English, and he could understand everyone speaking nearby, but realized it was French, "Are you seriously telling me you've just transported the four of us here? To Paris?"

Harry just nodded modestly, smiling in great satisfaction. Now Draco, for your sake, I need you to say the following, "'Harry, I think we should go home. Perhaps we're not supposed to be here...' Go ahead, Draco, it's part of my plan. Trust me."

Draco shook his head, but whatever, here they most certainly WERE. So..."All right. Harry, I think we should go home. perhaps we're not supposed to be here..."

"Thank you. Now *I* say... Yes, perhaps you're right, Draco. I'm a bit fatigued at the moment, so I'll take us home after I've rested a bit and gotten my strength back. You all heard that, right?"

Everyone nodded.

Hermione said, "Harry, the Professor's going to kill you, you know."

"I don't think so," Harry shook his head. "I'm not breaking a single rule. I've been to Paris before. I have permission to be 'out exploring' with you three this morning. I'm allowed to Blink us places. I've even left a note on my pillow for Dobby, saying that I'm in Paris exploring with you guys, and John's brought me here before so it's ok. I told him not to worry, and that we'll be back to change for the Feast. I think I've got everything covered and we should be in the clear.

"So, let's get some coffee or hot chocolate, and in a couple minutes I'll take us to Thunder Mountain. Trust me, 'Mione. I've got this SO covered," Harry said confidently.

"Uh huh," she said as she nodded dubiously. "I have a very bad feeling about all this."

"Oh come on, you old stick in the mud. You only live once, right?" Ron chimed in, very much getting with the spirit of the thing.

"Indeed," she answered. "I'd just like my life to extend beyond this weekend!"

Harry, realizing he had no local currency or money of any kind on him, decided to experiment. "Hand me that napkin there, would you please?" He laid the napkin down flat on the tabletop, closed his eyes for a moment to envision exactly what he wanted... 200 Euros... and affixed his seal to the paper. A moment later, the napkin disappeared in a golden flame, and 20 notes of 10 Euros each sat there in its place. He distributed the money, 50 to each of them, as he picked up their beverages from the barista. He didn't pay for the drinks because as he approached the register, the manager said please to accept the drinks with his compliments.

"Harry?" Ron asked, "What did you just do?"

"I'm not completely sure, but I think I just wrote my first check. Come along, let's walk towards the Park now," and he led his little troop out westwards where they saw the Park looming before them.

Slowly everyone began to relax and think this may work out after all, as Harry explained how he'd seen brochures of this Park and desperately wanted to visit it.

"My parents have discussed perhaps bringing us here for a weekend, but I certainly didn't think we'd get here this way!" Hermione laughed.

"I've never been anywhere surrounded by so many muggles before!" Draco observed.

"Well, we probably don't want to use much typical magic. I'm not sure what alarms the French Ministry may have up, though I doubt our wands are registered to monitor underage use over here." Ron speculated.

Harry nodded, "Good idea, Ron. I know my Blink doesn't set off wards, so I presume it doesn't register on alarm systems either. Anyway," as they approached a private alleyway adjacent to one of the park fences... "take my arms..." Harry instructed, and they were quickly blinked into another alleyway across the plaza. "Right, we're in... now, do we want to walk to the Roller Coaster, or scoot?"

"Oh, let's walk," Hermione suggested. "It's not far, and there's so much to see along the way."

Everyone agreed, and they set off westwards, as they passed an information booth and picked up brochures with maps of the park.

None of them noticed the two crows watching them from above, that began their observations when they exited the Coffee Shop. They also failed to observe two amorphous shadows that trailed 50 feet or so behind them, dimming the mosaics of the walkways, even in the brilliant morning sunshine.

The next hour was all the children could have wished for. They got to the Big Thunder Mountain Ride and screamed with reckless abandon as the nearly mile long track twisted, dropped, and threw them side to side through the darkened tunnels and sunlit cliffs. They enjoyed it so much, they went another go... spending at least 30 minutes in the queue. But then they headed to the Riverboat and enjoyed the tour around the lagoon, past Pocahontas' Indian Village, past a boat landing of Big Thunder Mountain, and then skirting the haunted Phantom Manor, before returning to the Thunder Mesa Riverboat Landing.

Knowing they needed to be certain not to raise any suspicions by being late, Harry suggested they head towards the Plaza where vendors were selling drinks, snacks, and ice cream, then head on home. Everyone agreed on the wisdom of this plan as they started to climb up the gangway from the Riverboat to the asphalt pavement of the Park.

That's where everything seemed to go suddenly wrong, as they walked towards the general sitting area where a number of umbrella covered tables offered rest to weary Park patrons, only to see...

Professors Konstantyn and Snape, accompanied by Arthur Weasley and Gerald Granger, sitting comfortably sipping cool drinks in the shade of their umbrellas.

Harry and companions stopped dead in their tracks, as a moment of panic actually tempted him to try to escape.

 _Pavel's voice cut into their minds with a tone as cold as ice, saying, "Don't even THINK about trying to run, children!"_

 _Harry replied, trying to brazen this out, "Oh, hello, Papa! It's so good to see you. Have you come to join us? We were just heading home, so we'd not be late for the Feast."_

At first Pavel was affronted by the sheer cheek of Harry's attempt at deception, but mere seconds later he realized this was what the boy was being trained to do. When discovered in such a situation, and escape seems implausible, his best tactic is to play the innocent... to look like he belongs where he is, or look like he inadvertently got there by accident. Either strategem may disarm and deescalate a dangerous situation, especially against an armed adversary such as a guard or other protector.

The children approached the table close enough for audible conversation.

"I applaud the attempt, my son. But this is not an occasion on which to try to teach your grandmother to suck eggs." meaning that no ploy so elementary, was going to stand a chance for this situation.

"I'm sorry, sir." Harry looked down a moment, examining his toes. "We really were just heading home though. We were going to get an ice cream on the way, and then..."

"I believe we can forego the ice cream, Harry. And let us simplify the issue of going home. You will follow us, while I take us to a private corner, whereupon you will transport your group directly to my Study at the Chalet. We shall be right behind you," and just as he said, Pavel led them at a comfortable pace around the side of one of the snack booths, where hoses and wires fed utilities to the various carts. Assured that they were unobserved, Pavel quietly said, "Go... Now!"

The four children found themselves standing in Pavel's Study, as behind them in walked Pavel, Severus, Arthur, and Gerald. Pavel waved his hand, and the room instantly configured itself into the Inquisition arrangement, with comfortable armchairs for the adults, and wooden dining chairs for the children.

Neither Hermione nor Ron could even look at their fathers. Draco held up a little better, even against Severus' scowl, but he, too, figured this would take some extremely impressive footwork if they were to escape with their hides intact.

Pavel, with great control to his voice, simply said, "Harry, what have you to say for yourself?"

"Well, sir, only that this trip was my responsibility and mine alone, the others did not know where we were going this morning, and Draco immediately asked that we return home once he understood where we were. I felt I needed to take a bit of time before attempting the return blink as four people. But I have been EXTREMELY careful to break no rules, sir. I knew I could blink this safely, and it was tested and approved by John and Oxsana. I'be been to Paris before, and knew the trip was safe. We used next to no magic while we were there. We lied to no one. I had permission, from YOU, to be out exploring with these friends. And I even left a note saying where we were. May I 'show you' the morning, so that you can confirm the truth of what I am saying, sir?"

Pavel stared at him with narrowed eyes, as he said, "I know you are speaking truth, but yes, you may open the morning to me that I see its progress."

"Yes, sir," and so Harry just offered the unvarnished memory of the morning to Pavel, without comment or edit. When the mental replay was complete, Harry concluded with, "Therefore, sir, I deny or dissemble over nothing of our activities this morning. I offer only the justification of my actions, that I was obedient and careful, honoring all rules and boundaries you have set for me... sir. I humbly await judgment."

"I see..." Pavel said, thoughtfully, though Harry could hear that he was still absolutely furious. "Gentlemen, do you have any questions regarding this morning's adventure that you wish to ask before we deliberate together?"

"I have only one," Severus asked.

Pavel nodded, yielding the floor.

"Mr. Malfoy, did you, or any other of you, consult with Mr. Potter about this plan, or have any inkling, before you arrived there, that he intended to take you so far afield?"

"No, sir," Draco said, as the others shook their heads in agreement.

"None at all?" Snape probed, extending his own legilimens ability seeking any hint of deception.

"No, sir," Draco stood fast.

"Very well, I have no other questions, Pavel," Snape concluded.

"No other questions then, gentlemen?" as Pavel watched Arthur and Gerald shake their heads "no". "Then children, I would like you each to return to your bedrooms and stand in a corner until we call for you to return, or otherwise release you. We need to deliberate. Go, now!"

"Yessir's" were heard as the children left, heading up the stairs or out the front door to sleighs, respectively.

"Wow," Draco said, as they closed the door behind him. "I could FEEL the anger there. I wouldn't be in Harry's shoes for all the tea in England."

"I know, mate," Ron said, too worried about his friend to realize what he'd just said. "He's got to be out of his mind to try a stunt like that here today! But we're not altogether out of the woods yet, either."

"I think we are, Ron. Harry set this up so that all the heat will fall on him. You know how the Professor thinks. There's nothing that WE did, no decisions WE made, technically, that were 'wrong'. We couldn't have returned home on our own, even if we'd wanted to. Besides which, we had no reason not to think Harry was authorized to do this."

"Yeah, well," Ron contested, "no reason beyond common sense! You know how protective Papa Pavel is of Harry! No WAY he'd have let him do this without him or John, or at least Oxsana along."

"Yeah, well, that's true enough. Oh well, here's my stop... See you soon... I hope," Hermione said, running up the stairs to occupy a corner in her bedroom.

The sleigh then deposited Ron, then Draco, to their respective detention cells, and waited patiently for the next needy passenger.

* * *

 **One Hour Earlier**

Dobby had become ever more concerned and worried, as he observed Harry and his friends enjoying themselves at the theme park. It wasn't their having a good time that concerned him. It was that they were being watched and followed by foul creatures spying on them with evil intent. When he went to Harry's room to be sure it was straightened up for the day he found a note pinned to Harry's pillow addressed to him.

~~ooOoo~~

 _"To:Dobby_

 _"I'm going to take my friends to Euro Disney for an hour or two this morning. Please don't worry about me. I have Papa's permission to be out exploring with them, and John took me to Paris the other day, so I figure I've got permission to go wherever he's taken me before. We'll be back before time to change for the Feast, so just have a good morning!_

 _"From: Your Friend, Harry"_

~~ooOoo~~

Dobby checked on them, and found that they were, indeed, fine and having a wonderful time. However, he sensed some sort of danger to them, and wouldn't rest until he determined what it was. He first spotted the crows. There were crows following them. Not up close, not so they'd notice, but these crows - that clearly weren't "just" crows - were posted at a number of points surrounding the children watching every move they made. Then, he felt the "shadow things". They were in the ground, somehow, tracking the children's footsteps as though following a scent. Again, he could tell they meant no good, but he didn't recognize what, or who, they were, or what kind of danger they represented. He just knew the children didn't know they were there, weren't on their guard, and they were in danger!

Dobby did the next best thing he knew, since this was apparently somewhere John had taken them or permitted, Dobby grabbed the little note and sought out John in the Kitchens.

"Master Constantine, sir?" Dobby said, in his hesitant little voice.

John didn't hear or acknowledge him, preoccupied as he was with last minute Feast preparations.

"Master John, sir?" Dobby repeated, a bit louder.

"What?" John looked around, "Oh, it's you, Dobby," he said with a smile. "Now's not a really good time, little buddy. I'm a bit busy. Can we talk later?" and John went back to sorting the platters for serving the turkeys.

"I'm so sorry, Master John, but I think it's important to ask you... Do you really think your instructions to Master Harry were wise, sir? I sense danger around him."

Still preoccupied, John was focused elsewhere as he said, "I didn't give Harry any instructions this morning, Dobby. I know he talked to Papa abou..." John checked himself, "Wait! What did you say? Danger? What are you talking about, Dobby? What danger to Harry?" and John immediately sent his senses out to feel where Harry was, expecting to sense him somewhere between the Chalet and the Village... Nothing...

"PAPA!" John hollared at the top of his lungs. "WHERE'S HARRY? I CAN'T FIND HIM!"

"Vat! Vy are you bellowing, son? He must be around here somewhere. He was going out with Ron, Hermione, and perhaps Draco to 'explore' he said," Pavel asked in a much calmer tone than John, as he walked into the Kitchen from his Study.

"Papa, I can't sense him anywhere, and Dobby says he may be in danger! Throw your net, where IS he?" John struggled to keep the fear from his voice.

Pavel focused instantly, and realized he did not sense Harry anywhere nearby.

While all this was going on, poor Dobby was hopping up and down, almost frantic trying to get their attention, until finally... he started pulling on Pavel's pants leg waving the note through the air like a flag, as he lost his composure to scream...

"MASTER KONSTANTYN, SIR... PLEASE... THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU. HARRY IS IN PARIS! And..." his voice dropped as both men turned to stare and listen to him intently, "I'm not at all sure him going to Disneyworld was a very good idea today..." as his voice drifted off to silence.

"DISNEYWORLD?!" Both Konstantyn's shouted to one another as Pavel snatched and instantly scanned the note, then passed it to Ivan...

"I'm going to KILL him!" John grunted, through gritted teeth, when he read Harry's words, that made it sound like he had John's permission.

"Only if you get to him first, my son..." Pavel nodded as he adjusted his net, focusing on France, only to find... Yes, there he was, safe and sound. Yet, just as Dobby had observed. Something... unclean and deadly... was following and tracking the children.

 _"Stephan?," Pavel mind-spoke, to the head of Estate Security at their office complex near the Manor._

 _"Yes, Your Grace," Stephan instantly answered._

 _"Observe..." and Pavel flashed him the location of both the party of children and their suspicious followers. "Can you blink four operatives there instantly, to protect them until I arrive and return them here?"_

 _"Yes, Your Grace. Consider it done," Stephan answered._

 _"Thank you," Pavel replied._ He went immediately to put on his cloak, and mind-spoke to Severus, Arthur, and Gerald asking if they would mind accompanying him to pick up the children. The trip would not be more than 20 minutes, and he would explain along the way. They agreed, met him as he picked each up from their front doors, and Blinked them to the refreshment area of the Park where they acquired drinks and sat to await their miscreants.

John had asked if Pavel wanted him to come, and Papa said it wasn't necessary. He should just go on with his tasks, and they'd return shortly. Pavel knew how furious John was, and didn't want the strain of trying to help him maintain control, while he was going to be so challenged just to keep himself in check.

* * *

 **So... Back in the Present**

Pavel sat back to speak to the other "parents" in the room.

"I apologize, gentlemen. It would appear that your children are innocent of any wrongdoing. They did not instigate this adventure, did not assist in its planning, and didn't even prolong it voluntarily. They _enjoyed_ it, certainly, but that is no fault of theirs. I apologize to you all for the behavior of my son, and I assure you it will be addressed most assiduously. He placed your charges at risk, for which there is no excuse, and I beg your collective pardon."

"Pfft!" Severus responded. "Potter set up a very clever plan to get his own way, and he constructed it such that he shielded the others from blame. That's much to his credit, and yes, I'll accept that he's preserved the 'judicial innocence' of his cohort, but don't think for a minute that given the opportunity to participate in the plot, MINE at least, wouldn't have jumped at the chance."

"Aye, same for me, Pavel." Arthur agreed as he chuckled shaking his head.

"And me as well," Gerald agreed. "I could see that Hermione was worried about 'being in trouble'. But I could also see that she was completely allied with Harry in the enterprise. However, this leaves us with the question, gentlemen..." looking at Arthur and Severus... "is there any offense here to address, on the part of our three?"

"I think not, Gerald, though I'm loath to say it," Severus admitted.

"I suspect that is so..." agreed Arthur.

They all turned to look at Pavel, as the old man nodded his head. "Agreed. Shall I release them from their captivity? Or would you prefer to speak with them _in situ?_ "

"I think, Pavel, considering the danger they were in, and the fact that they COULD have called you directly, when they realized they were so far afield without adult supervision or security back up, I would prefer to go speak to Draco and release him myself, with a stern caution about future 'adventures'." Severus said.

"I think I'd like to do the same," said Arthur.

Gerald agreed as well.

"Very well then, Gentlemen. I now intend to have a little chat here with my son. Again, I apologize for his behavior, as he will for himself later on. Please forgive us."

"Bah! Nothing to forgive, sir..." they all expressed in one way or another, as they left him alone in his Study and closed the door.

* * *

Pavel allowed himself a full ten minutes, just to contemplate with his eyes closed, trying to regain his composure and rein in his temper. He had tasked his security detail to attempt to track and investigate the surveillance they had found on Harry, even though he had a sinking sense of certainty about the source of the danger.

Finally, he brought himself to a point of resolution...

 _"Harry?" he called to his son._

 _"Yes, Papa," Harry answered, trying to hold his voice solid._

 _"Please join me in my Study. It is time we had a little chat."_

 _"Yes, sir. Be right there."_ Harry checked the mirror to make sure he was presentable, and summoned his little paddle, putting it in a pocket, just in case it seemed appropriate. _With a deep breath and a heavy sigh, he said to himself, "Well, here we go..."_ and he blinked into the Study, standing before Papa's desk.

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	31. Love and Presumption

**Love and Presumption**

Harry stood at attention in front of Pavel, as he sat behind his big desk in the Study of the Chalet. The furnishings had been returned to their normal configuration, as Pavel sat quietly with his fingers steepled before his lips with his eyes closed. Harry didn't know how, but he could almost palpably feel the anger radiating from Pavel as though it were heat from a fireplace. Harry had had enough training and indoctrination as a "Konstantyn Son" to know when just to hold a brace and stare straight ahead. It was not his place to "eyeball" Papa, just stand completely still.

Pavel still debated internally about how to begin. Finally, he resolved his debate.

"Harry," he said, in a very neutral tone. "Come here to me, please." Pavel turned his chair to the side, so that Harry could approach him.

Harry came, feet moving sluggishly, unsure of whether he was to be punished, but Papa hadn't removed his cufflinks, so he hoped for the best.

When Harry reached Pavel, the man extended his arms as Harry reached up in response, and just sat him on his lap, folding him into a deep rich hug.

"Foolish... foolish boy!" Pavel whispered into Harry's mop of hair, as he hugged him, breathing in gratefully the scent of this waif he was still terrified he could have lost. "So casually, so callously, you risk what is dearest to my heart, you foolish boy! Ivan is furious with you, as am I. Do you know why?"

Harry began to sniffle as his heart was moved with what was so clearly Pavel's relief. "Yes, Papa. I know."

"Then why? You tell me."

"Because I put myself in danger, I went beyond the bounds, and I could have been hurt."

"YES! You foolish boy! Not only yourself, but those YOU hold most dear. That is not the mark of a good leader, my son." And even as he chided Harry, he hugged him with unmistakable relief. "Do you have ANY idea how frightened we were when we could not find you? Or when we realized where you were? Did you know that you were being followed and spied upon by creatures, servants of enemies that mean you harm? And you were, for a short time at least, beyond our ability to protect you! You are FAMILY now, son. Do you know what we would feel if anything, anything at all, were to happen to you?"

This broke Harry, and he began to sob in heartfelt sorrow.

"I'm sorry, Papa," Harry wept quietly into Pavel's shirtfront. "I didn't mean to be bad."

"You're not 'bad', beloved boy. But that doesn't let you off the hook, either. You made plans, decisions, and then executed them... brilliantly, I might add... with cold-blooded efficiency, deceiving me, John, and even Dobby. All of us dedicated to your safety and protection."

"I know, but I was careful, Papa," Harry objected, weakly.

"Hush a moment, waif. Just let me hold you, and feel how deep is my concern for you. Hush a moment..." and Pavel just rocked the boy in his arms as he would have when he was 3 years old and wakened from a nightmare. How deeply he regretted not having had the opportunity to raise Harry in those critical years. How much suffering could he have prevented? How much more secure would this boy be with such upbringing? As Pavel pondered these thoughts, he came to a decision.

"Son, I want to show you something... reveal to you something... I never intended to do this, but...

 _"Ecce!" Pavel mind spoke to Harry. "Behold our love for you..."_ and Pavel released the boundaries around his heart regarding Harry, and let him "in" to experience the reality of this.

Harry felt a "wave of light" break over him like a wave of surf at the ocean. It upended him, tumbled him in its power, washing over and under him, lifting and supporting him as if floating in it as a fluid substance. It was a "feeling" but vastly more than that... It was warm and powerful beyond measure. It covered him completely and flowed through him as well. He could breathe it, swallow it, grasp it and be grasped by it. He'd never experienced anything like this before in his life. There weren't even any words to describe it. And somehow, without knowing how he knew, he was simply aware... fully and completely aware... of how deeply and richly he was held and loved in Pavel's heart. He knew, totally and completely, that HERE... he was safe... in a way he'd never imagined "safe" could be.

Slowly, carefully, Pavel pulled back, replacing the boundaries to his heart so that Harry could stand on his own again.

"Do you understand now, son?" Pavel asked, tears flowing down his cheeks.

"Yes, Papa," Harry answered, reflecting Pavel's tears with his own. "I'm so sorry..."

"I know. And I believe that. Please hear and believe that. But... nonetheless..." Pavel gently set Harry back down to stand on the floor...

"Am I going to be punished?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps. I do not know yet," Pavel answered, handing Harry a handkerchief as he pulled another from his pocket for himself. "Ve need to continue our 'little chat'."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, returning to the front of the desk and again standing at attention after wiping his face and blowing his nose.

"Harry, you were very skilled in designing this exploit. You were, indeed, most careful not to violate any of the verbal instructions or rules you've been given. Were I judging this as a case at the bar, I should have to find you blameless. However, that is not all that goes on between us. You have sworn to respect and esteem me as your father, and you know that I consider obedience to be your compliance both to my word and to my WILL. Now, if you can tell me, with a clean conscience, that you did what you did truly believing that it was compliant to my will, that is that I would not object to your actions, then I will consider this an innocent, if ill-advised, act of mistaken judgment.

"However, if you tell me, in all honesty, that you knew exactly what I WANTED, and you did this to circumvent my will... to be 'disobedient' even while you were being 'compliant'... then yes, Harry, you will be punished. Only you know the answer to that question. And you must tell me which it is."

"Papa?" Harry said, a bit hesitantly.

"Yes, son. You may speak freely."

"You know... you know darned well, that you can get that answer from me without my saying anything. Why don't you just take the information?"

"Because I do not do that. I would not do that to you, violate the sovereignty and sanctity of your mind, for this... for a matter of discipline. I would only probe beyond your permission if you were incapacitated, or in danger. You must answer this on your own. I need you a strong son, not an automaton. You must decide what to do, and what to say. I will abide by your decision, whatever it is. But know this..." his voice quite stern, "if, as I believe, this was disobedience... then I assure you, you will be punished more severely than you've ever thought possible. For this, if intentional, was a terrible thing to do."

"But, Papa," Harry's voice trembled a bit, threatening sobs. "I only wanted to spend a couple hours out free with my friends. I didn't mean anything bad."

"I know that, son," Pavel's eyes and voice softened, "but there are countless things over the next few years that you will want, but should not do... that you'll have the power, the ability, to gratify with just the merest act of your will. You must learn, right here and right now, how to curb your desires according to your duty. You must learn prudence and accountability to those who love you and would lay down their lives for you. This is a hard lesson, beloved boy. And it begins right here, right now. Now... which is it? Were you disobedient? Or imprudently careless?" as his voice had again mutated into the colorless tone of the impartial arbiter.

Harry looked down at his toes as he thought a moment, wishing he could say what he _wanted_ to say, but knowing it just wasn't in him. He'd not so violate the trust between them. He could not lie to this man's face. "I was disobedient, Papa. Please forgive me, I'm very sorry. I'll not do it again."

"Thank you, Harry, for being honest. You are forgiven, my son. And I know you are truly sorry. As to whether you will ever do it again, I don't think either of us can know that for certain. However, I DO know for certain, that the consequences for your actions today are going to be terrible. And as you endure them, I don't want you to EVER mistake that your punishment means that I love you less, or I am distancing you, or that I find YOU unacceptable. I find your behavior today unacceptable, but that only because I so treasure you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir, I understand," Harry mumbled, looking down.

"No, boy! No shamefaced mumbling. You've owned your actions like a man. Well done. Don't weaken now," Pavel ordered.

"Sorry, sir," Harry looked up. "I understand you, sir," he said, in a strong voice.

"Very well, then. For the moment, the only consequence I require of you is that you apologize... to John, first of all, who was terrified for your safety this morning, and I've seldom seen him so angry as when he read your note intimating that he had authorized your excursion. Then, to your friends for placing them at risk, and to their parents for your poor judgment. Last, you are to apologize to Dobby, who nearly injured himself trying to get help for you when he was the first to see the enemies that were following and threatening you.

"Yes, sir," Harry winced as he heard how he had upset John and Dobby.

"Fine, when that is done, I suggest you embrace and enjoy every minute of this week, young man. There will be no punishment, and no further discussion of this matter until next Sunday afternoon, when we will return to Hogwarts for the rest of this term. We will then sit down as a family, the four of us, and go over the conditions of your punishment. The term of your penalties will extend from the moment we return to Hogwarts, until the Annual Yule Ball at the Manor."

"But... but Papa! That's... that's two whole months!" Harry gasped in dismay.

"I am fully aware of that, my son. Be grateful it is not longer," and the edge to his tone brooked no argument.

Harry snapped back to attention, "Yes, sir. Sorry."

"Is there anything more you think I should know before you are dismissed, and I consider this matter further?" Pavel asked.

"Only... Only that I'm really sorry, but I knew from what you and John said back at the Manor, that someone was hunting me again or something, and you were probably going to at least Yellow Card me, if not Red. I just wanted to have some fun before that. I knew you'd be all over me when we got back to Hogwarts."

"Wait, Harry," as a dangerous edge crept back into Pavel's voice. "Are you telling me then, that you REALIZED there was a new adversary hunting you? And that was specifically WHY you broke the bounds to Paris THIS week, knowing you'd be unable to do so after this week?"

By now Harry realized his error of judgment in making this particular revelation. He watched Pavel close his eyes, and felt the wave of anger wash over him as the implications of this statement filtered all the way through consciousness.

"Harry? It is one thing to chafe against your boundaries and restrictions, and disobediently absent yourself without leave. To expose yourself to risk on general principles, leaving the zone where you are routinely protected is bad enough. But to tell me that you did this SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE we have become aware of another danger hunting you, and the protections we will put in place to guard you... Harry, I cannot find the words.

"Son, that's not just disobedience, it's downright contempt. That comprises presumption and contemptuous disrespect. Do you have even the slightest idea how much power, how much resource, I wield in and through this Estate? Do you have the least inkling how much effort on the part of people you have never known or seen, are dedicated to ensuring your safety? I have brought you and your friends here this holiday to relieve you of your typical burden of having to be vigilant at all times. HERE, this Estate is vigilant FOR you. You could be nothing more than a 'carefree boy' without having to keep all your safety rules, because this entire KINGDOM is kept secure when you are here, to protect you. All my power, and John's, and Oxsana's, are bent to your protection here. And I've established protections and security around northeast Scotland and Hogwarts, to protect you when you are there as well. My umbrella covers you in either place, where you are more secure than the Queen of England or the President of the United States, or any other national head of state.

"And you DARE stand there and tell me, that KNOWING the extent to which we all go to secure your safety, and having orchestrated this week for you to enjoy simple human boyhood... you throw that in our faces, using your powers, skills, and tactical abilities, to ESCAPE that umbrella of protection, and take your friends far from it? Harry! I am immensely powerful, but not even I can blanket the entire PLANET with protection for you if you choose to escape me!

"Harry... Nothing you have ever said or done... could hurt me as deeply as this has this morning. I never thought you would treat me with such contempt or presumption."

Harry was in tears. "Sir, I..."

"Silence, Harry. Do not speak. You are dismissed. Go... please."

Harry stood still, yet weeping. "Permission to speak, sir."

"DENIED, Harry! Obey me now, if you remember how. GO!"

"Yes, Papa," and miserably, Harry blinked to his room, where he climbed onto his bed and wept bitterly into his pillow.

 _Moments later, a lone gray and grizzled wolf could be seen bounding at a supernatural speed from the Chalet into the dense stand of cedar trees south of the Gasthausen._

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	32. Giving Thanks for Blessings

**Giving Thanks for Blessings**

 _"Hey, Squirt," John mind-spoke to Harry. "What'cha doin'?"_

 _"Nothing..." Harry answered, a bit woefully._

 _"Well it's 12:15, time to get a wiggle on. You dressed yet? It's full 'dress for dinner' time, necktie and all. No jeans, sneakers, or tee shirts."_

 _"Aw maaaannnn!," Harry whined. "Do I hafta come? I'm sort of in trouble, you know."_

 _"No, you aren't. Not til next week. And YES, you hafta come, you're co-hosting, with me and Papa."_

 _"*Groan* I don't think Papa would mind if I stayed in my room."_

 _"Yes, he would," John laughed, "and so would Oxsana and I. I've talked to Papa, and he's getting dressed now. He didn't send you away because he was so mad he didn't want YOU around. He sent you away because he was so mad he didn't want HIM around. He knew he had to cool off. You've seen him that way before... a couple of times. He needed to go outside and do a wolf run to calm himself. You been sitting, moping in your room ever since?"_

 _"Not exactly..." Harry sidestepped the question._

 _"Well, what 'exactly' have you been in your room doing?"_

 _"Well, for a little while I just cried on my bed, 'cause I felt so bad about what I'd done. Then, when that didn't help, I've just been standing in the corner for a bit. But it's hard without a Tempus above the fireplace to know when to come out!" and the beginning of a little giggle started._

 _"Aha! Well, consider this your 'Tempus Alarm' going off. Get out of that corner, get your clothes on, and get down here to start greeting our guests as they arrive. Oxsana and I want the whole company here and assembled when we open the Pavilion. And, by the way, the Twins did NOT succeed this morning. Sorry, Squirt."_

Harry actually laughed, standing in his bedroom corner, having forgotten that part of his plot had been to distract John by the Twins trying to breech the defenses of the Pavilion.

 _"So you forgive me then? I'm so sorry I made you worry and... kinda... blamed this on you."_

 _"Of course I forgive you, Squirt. That doesn't mean you and I may not have a little heart to heart about all this later, but I'm not mad at you anymore. So come on, get yer clothes on and get down here... or I'll see if Papa needs to go over there when he's dressed and help you."_

 _"NOOooooo! Don't do that! At least not before I've at least got my pants on. I might can use the help with the tie and cufflinks, but I don't want to tempt fate!"_

 _"Fine then, hurry up. And you may want to give Dobby a call. He's really good at neckties now, he gets dozens to practice with a day, with his choice of wardrobe. And he's been really upset thinking you'll be mad at him for 'ratting you out'."_

 _"Oh, gosh no! I'll call him right now. Thanks, big brother."_

 _"No problem, little brother. See you in a few minutes."_

 _"Yessir!" Harry said, leaving his corner and starting to strip down._

"Dobby, are you free?" Harry spoke to the air.

Dobby popped into the room in a corner, looking all downcast and sad. "Dobby is so sorry, Master Harry. Dobby didn't mean to get Master Harry into trouble with Master John and Master Papa. Dobby was just worried because bad things were following Harry and his friends, and it wasn't safe there."

"I know that, Dobby," Harry got down on one knee to hug Dobby. "Here now, don't cry on my shirt if you can help it. I'm not upset with you at all. Nobody could ever have a better or truer friend than you are, Dobby. If you see me in danger, I WANT you to talk to John or Papa. I may need help, and you may be the only one who can save me, OK? Don't be sad."

Dobby sniffled, trying to get control of himself. "But... but Dobby thought Master Harry got in trouble after Dobby told them."

"I did, Dobby. But that was my fault, for what I decided to do. Not your fault for helping me. I played a mean trick on you with that note, trying to make you think I had permission to go there. I knew you'd know I was there, so I tried to make it look like I had John's permission so you wouldn't ask about it. I'm sorry, Dobby. Do YOU forgive ME for trying to trick you?"

"OH!" Dobby exclaimed, putting his hand to his head. "ACH! Master Harry APOLOGIZES? To DOBBY? I'm only a simple house elf, Master. You don't apologize to ME!"

Harry hugged the little distraught elf, tears on shirt or no. "No, Dobby. You don't understand. You are certainly a house elf, but you're also my FRIEND. And you deserve my respect and gratitude for the care you take of me. I abused that this morning, and yes, it's perfectly right that I apologize for it. So, do you forgive me?" Harry laughed.

"OF COURSE I forgive you," Dobby agreed, nodding so energetically that his ears made that little _"wakka-wakka"_ sound.

"Hey, Dobby. I could use your help dressing if you don't mind."

"Oh, Master, I don't mind at all..." and _"whoosh"_... all Harry's clothes - silk shirt, dress pants, belt, waistcoat, long-tail wizard jacket, and crest - were immediately on his body, buttoned, zipped, and even shoes changed, with a sweep of Dobby's hand.

Harry laughed as he said, "Well, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but that's wonderful. I really needed your help with this necktie and these stupid French Cuffs and cufflinks.

"Oh, certainly, Master," as Dobby set to work pulling Harry to the edge of his bed, while Dobby climbed atop it behind him, to put a proper Windsor knot in the necktie.

A soft knock at the door prompted Harry to say, "Come in," as Dobby was reaching over Harry's shoulders working blind to knot the tie.

Pavel stepped in to stare at the disquieting scene of his son standing there at the side of his bed with four arms, two in his suit jacket, two sprouting from his shoulders tying his tie with their slightly bluish colored skin. The image took just an instant to interpret, but set Pavel laughing heartily once he figured it out.

"Good afternoon, Dobby!" he greeted the invisible, or almost invisible, elf.

"Oh, good afternoon, Master Papa..." came the response, looking as if Harry had mastered ventriloquism.

"I see that once more, you are taking marvelous care of my son, Dobby. Thank you again, and always, for that!"

Dobby spluttered just a bit, before saying, "Oh, Masters, that just gives me joy."

"Well, as you're in good hands, Harry, I can see you downstairs in a bit if you like," and he started to turn away.

"Wait, Papa..." Harry said, as Dobby finished up his tie and disentangled himself. "Would..." Harry began a bit hesitantly, pulling out his French Cuffs... "would you mind... helping me with the cufflinks? I haven't quite got the hang of them yet."

"I'll be glad to, son," Pavel said, smiling gently as he summoned the crested jewelry to his hand, and began to insert them for Harry, again showing him the "inside" and "outside" fobs, and how to tell the left from the right. They were left and right, because that way the Crest was upright in both sleeves. Otherwise, not so.

"Thank you, Papa," Harry said, as Dobby finished off his tie with his ribboned House Crest, just as Pavel was wearing, but a touch smaller. "I want you to know, Dobby came in all upset at having 'told on me' and 'getting me in trouble'." Pavel waited quietly to hear the recitation. "I told him he didn't get me in trouble, I did that myself. And I thanked him for getting help when he saw me in danger. I apologized for tricking him this morning. But I hadn't yet apologized for upsetting him so much when he was afraid for me." Harry turned around to take Dobby's little hands and look him in the eye. "Dobby, I'm really sorry I frightened you that way, and I'm going to try never to do that again, OK?"

"Oh, Master, thank you so much. But wizards shouldn't apologize to house elves. It's just not right!" Dobby objected, shaking his head as he got down from the bed.

Pavel just smiled, saying, "We do in THIS house, my dear little friend. And I apologize as well, Dobby, for not listening to you closer, or thanking you when you located Harry for us. I was very worried, and turned away from you rudely. Please forgive me my bad manners in the kitchen. I was a bit... 'concerned'... though that's not an adequate excuse."

"Oh! Master Papa! You're going to make Dobby cry all over again! Oh! OH!" and *snap*, Dobby disappeared in a puff of smoke with a snap of his finger.

Harry and Pavel were just left facing each other before they broke down laughing. "He did the same thing when I apologized for tricking him, too. He gets very... emotional."

"To say the least," Pavel smiled, and held out his arms to hug Harry, saying, "So do I, my son. Sometimes my emotion can overwhelm me, especially anger. When that happens it's best I get away for a few minutes to calm down. Everything is fine between us now. You're forgiven. I am, always have been, and always will be very happy and proud that you're my son. So... can we leave these matters to rest for the rest of the week? Just enjoy the holiday together?"

"I still need to make my apologies downstairs..." Harry observed.

"True. But that need not be upsetting. No one is angry or upset anymore, so just own up, say what must be said, and we'll all enjoy the Feast Ivan and Oxsana have prepared. All right?" Pavel backed up a pace, patting Harry encouragingly on the shoulder, picking a fluff of lint off his lapel.

"All right, I'm all set," Harry nodded, as it struck him that he and Pavel were identically dressed, and that suddenly made him feel very proud indeed.

As they started out the door, Pavel suddenly thought of something and stopped, dropping to one knee to face Harry eye to eye. "Harry? I need to tell you something very important and I need you to remember this always, OK?"

"Sure, Papa," Harry reflected his concern.

"If, like today, I EVER send you away when I'm angry... You MUST realize and remember, that it is NOT because YOU are unacceptable to be in my presence. It's NEVER that I am ashamed of or disappointed in you in any way. It will ALWAYS be because I am not acceptable to be in YOUR presence. That my own behavior is shameful or disappointing, or that I'm trying to avoid doing something or saying something I regret. Ivan knows this. His mother helped me with this, and could provide a buffer for me in this. I still, after all these years, after all my training and discipline, sometimes struggle with my anger, and you must never ever think such a problem is yours, it is always mine. Do you understand this? Do you hear me on this?"

"Yes, Papa. I hear you."

"Thank you, son. Don't ever think you are responsible for my anger. We are all responsible for what we ourselves do, and we all have challenges some way or other. This, is one of mine. All right?"

"OK, Papa. I forgive you..." Harry added, with just a touch of cheek and a smile.

"Good, Scamp. I'll take that! Because I do, truly, apologize to you for my display of anger and the anguish I'm sure it caused. So thank you, for your forgiveness." Pavel said, hugging the boy and rising to his feet tousling his hair. "Now let's get down to your brother before he sends out another search party, eh?"

"Right..." Harry said. "Does that mean I can slide down the banister?"

"No, sir... It most certainly does NOT!" Pavel laughed.

 _"Awwww maaaaannnn!"_ Harry whined, laughing as together they headed down the stairs.

* * *

 **The Feast**

Within minutes, guests began to arrive. Severus and Draco, then the Grangers, then Mr. and Mrs. Zdniewsky and Stashu, then the Weasleys. Minerva had joined Pavel and Harry greeting all the arrivals and serving them refreshments of their choice.

All were dressed in their Sunday best, and the Weasleys did themselves proud. Draco was dressed very similarly to Harry, while Severus yet wore his ensemble of all black, though some brocade and satin peeked through here and there. The hit of the fashion parade however, were the Zdniewskys, who came in local festive garb just as John had worn when he and Oxsana had gone to her mother's house to ask permission to marry. Oxsana's mother had, of course, been invited as well, and also wore traditional garb, as she stepped through the fireplace having floo'ed to the Chalet from her home.

John was delighted to see Didus Zdniewsky and his wife Babusya - grandmother. He and Oxsana both greeted them warmly, with hugs and double kisses, reminding them of when last they'd been together when they were children. They delighted to announce their engagement and promised to invite them to the wedding. Pavel had been friends with their family for a long time, and the children shared their grief at the loss of Stashu's parents.

John then took advantage of the situation by announcing, "In that our honored guests from the Village have graced us with traditional Ukrainian garb, I think it only right as host, to be accommodating. We shall return in just a moment." Grabbing Oxsana's hand he dashed from the room only to return moments later with the two of them fully kitted out in their colorful Ukrainian garb, as Harry had seen them the day John proposed to Oxsana.

"Ah," Pavel laughed. "Ivan thanks you so much Igor! He was dying to get out of that suit I was making him wear, even though this is HIS feast! I am so very glad you and Valentyna could join us this afternoon. Stashu has been a wonderful host for our visitors here."

"It is a great honor to be invited, Your Grace. And we thank you for the wise counsel you offered to our grandson the other day. I look forward to hunting with him in three days' time."

"So I hear, dear friend. Now, please... I've known you all my life. And when you say 'Your Grace', I look behind me for my father. Could we just, at least here at home, call me 'Pavel', as once you did?"

"Hmmm, let's split the difference, shall we? Let us call one another... 'Sir', and all these youngsters just call us Didus and Babusya! I know you have always called me 'sir', from a wee lad, so I'll quit arguing about it. How's that?"

"That will do me fine, sir," Pavel laughed. "And I am so glad you could join us, Valentyna. I'm sure this lad runs you off your feet!"

Valentyna was a wonderful short round grandmother who never seemed flustered or hurried. Stashu adored her, and would do anything she asked, just to make her happy. Pavel, John, and Oxsana had known her all their lives as well. She always had a plate of cookies nearby to offer a visiting child, and fussed about her husband, his eating, his health, or his wardrobe as projects constantly to be kept up with.

"It is so nice to come this evening," she said. "I only felt bad that I was not to bring a plate along to put on the table."

"Oh no, no, Babusya. We have taken care of more than enough plates of food for all! You shall have to tell me how well or badly we do after you taste the food," Oxsana said.

"VERY WELL, THEN," John raised his voice to get everyone's attention. Allow me to lead the way... to our Dining Hall!" John indeed led a procession through the Kitchen and an utterly remodeled Mud Room customized for the occasion, towards the Pavilion Tent, where the entrance flaps had been drawn back into an awning opening to... An amazing hall that seemed as large as the Formal Dining Room at the Manor, with mahogany flooring, draperies and tapestries along the walls, round dining tables arrayed in a square close enough that diners could speak clearly to anyone at an adjacent table, and a serving table positively groaning under the weight of a harvest feast. Half the table held the traditional American fare of Turkey, dressing, potatoes in various forms, green beans with bacon, some with onion, yams with marshmallow, green salad, macaroni salad, and a dizzying variety of desserts. There was also a European side, including foods from England, Germany, and the Ukraine. An array of breads and rolls sat on each table, along with butter and various spreads.

When everyone had served, Pavel, John, and Oxsana rose from their seats and, when they had everyone's attention, Pavel said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, honored guests, beloved children. This house is very blessed this night to have such wonderful people come and share our lives, our home, and our food. Thank you all for walking with us through this adventure of life," and he raised his glass of wine in toast, as everyone said "Hear, hear," and Pavel sat down.

John then raised his glass, as did Oxsana, and announced, "Dear friends, we thank you for coming and celebrating our gratitude with us. We are thankful to Almighty God for His grace, our loved ones, our health and happiness. Oxsana and I feel doubly blessed to have such marvelous parents, a wondrous young brother, and all of you in our lives. We thank you, and wish everyone... long life and happiness." This was also greeted with the chant of "Hear, hear," and they sat down as well.

The lights, the warmth, the food, and the laughter made the afternoon a sheer delight as everyone served him or herself buffet style, but then house elves served wine or other refreshments, and offered to refill anyone's plate with anything they chose, if they preferred not to get it themselves. The hit of the poultry table, as it was brought to John to carve, was a huge bird John called a "Turducken". As it was sliced it became clear that it was a boneless chicken, stuffed inside a boneless duck, stuffed inside a boneless Turkey. Didus' was the hero of the moment when he asked whether it swam or flew, and where he could get eggs for one.

By John and Oxsana's planning, parents did not sit with their own children, to promote greater conversation and fewer managerial looks. John made this announcement with a VERY managerial look towards his own father, claiming to know exactly what those felt like. So John and Oxsana had arranged the place cards such that: Ron and Stashu were seated with the Grangers and Professor Snape, the elder Weasley boys and Draco sat with Pavel, Mrs. Brzynski, and Minerva, Fred, Percy and Hermione sat with with John and Oxsana, while George, Harry and Ginny sat with the Zdniewskys.

Conversation hovered around student life, youthful adventures, and as people relaxed, eventually evolved into youthful misadventures. Fred and George regaled their tables with toned down reports of some of their antics, Mrs. Brzynski told a tale or two on her daughter, Ron and Hermione shared a bit of their exploits from the year prior, Stashu reported a prank or two from Durmstrang.

But the high point of the evening was when, in a fortuitously silent moment, Didus' was heard to say, "Vell, you know, of course, that His Grace over there vas not alvays the saint and pillar of decorum that now he iss..."

You could have heard a pin drop, as suddenly all conversation stopped to attend to Didus' upcoming story. Pavel just groaned, and desperately tried to change the subject, to no avail.

"Do tell, sir," Harry encouraged him.

"Indeed, Didus'. What was my father like as a young lad?" John probed, as he and Oxsana hung on every word.

"Oh, dear, children. Why, he was always full of spit and vinegar! His father would come to my barn looking for him, furious because he'd not have done his chores or whatever, because he'd be playing with the Village children in my apple orchard, or with my plow horses, and I would calm his father and get him to sit and share a glass of beer with me. Young Pavel there would see that I was stalling his father so he could high tail it back home and get his chores done before he was caught. He'd then play the innocent, as though he'd been working all along and his father must have been just looking in the wrong place." Pavel shook his head helplessly as all his darkest secrets were revealed. "It almost always worked, didn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Pavel nodded. "Almost always."

"But he would never lie. If his father asked the right questions, he would figure it out. But most of the time, he would just let it go. I miss your father, sometimes, Pavel. He was a good friend."

"I agree, sir. Sometimes I miss him, too. He would enjoy tonight, very much. He loved to see the house filled with good food, good friends, and lots of happy children."

"Ah, before I forget..." Harry said, rising to his feet. "Allow me to interrupt for just a moment. This morning I did a very wrong thing, going beyond the bounds I should have honored. I apologize for that, and for any anxiety I may have caused, particularly to you Professor Snape, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Please forgive me my poor judgment. Thank you," and he bowed profoundly to each table, before sitting down again.

"Vot did you do, young man?" the Didus' asked.

"Um, well, sir. I took a couple of our students to Paris, to Euro Disney. But just for an hour or so. Papa caught us pretty quick," Harry blushed, a bit embarrassed.

"Ah, vell..." the old man nodded. "Did he tell you when he and my son ran away to Odessa? I bet THAT'S a story he's never mentioned, eh?"

"О, Боже мій!" Pavel coughed. "Oh, please..." he just laughed as he blushed a bright red.

"Do go on, sir," Harry prodded.

"Oh yes, indeed, please..." Oxsana encouraged.

"Vell, neither he nor my son had attained the grades expected of them in the middle of their..." he thought a moment... "second year, vas it, Pavel?"

"Yes, sir..." Pavel just groaned, wishing the ground would open at his feet and swallow him whole.

"Yes," Didus' continued. "So he and my son thought perhaps they could fly their brooms to Odessa, and sign on to a ship as cabin boys or other seamen. It took us about two hours to track them down. Apparently, ships captains were not very keen on hiring 12 year old boys who rode in on broomsticks."

"Um," John pursued the conversation, "what happened then, Didus'?"

The old man looked at Ivan with a shrewd upraised eyebrow, "Exactly what you think would happen. We let them ride their brooms home first. But they didn't feel like much riding over the next week or so."

"Oh please," Pavel laughed, "don't remind me. Ach! Ivan!" he shouted, "Save me, please. Isn't it time for dessert?"

"Indeed, Papa. You've suffered enough. Please honored guests, help yourselves."

The soiled dishes and flatware disappeared from the tables, as dessert plates and bowls appeared, along with fresh cutlery, and everyone got up to stretch their legs and peruse their choices.

All in all, the evening is a grand success, everyone ate more than their fill, and the house elves make up packages of leftovers for each of their guests and homes. Somehow, between all the embarrassing stories, Papa and Didus' had managed to iron out a plan for a little Village Quidditch Match this coming Tuesday, and the Recreational Director would be contacting Pavel tomorrow about the final arrangements.

About 9:30 or so, everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, elves had redistributed food, and guests had all gone home, whether by sleigh or floo. John saw Oxsana and her mother home, and had just come back. Finally, the four of them... Pavel, John, Minerva, and Harry were just sitting in the living room staring into the warm cozy fire brightly burning as they sipped their coffee, tea, cocoa, and/or after dinner brandy, and no one said a word.

After several minutes of companionable silence, Harry got up, thanked John telling him what a terrific Feast he had thrown, and then he walked over to Minerva.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Min. I'd forgotten," and he just handed her his right hand, palm side down.

All of them laughed, as she took his hand in hers for a confused moment, and then lightly spatted the top of it. "Ye daft lad! Dinna go running off like that again, ya hear?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry," and he gave her a hug which she returned warmly, seeing a very tired little boy in her arms.

Pavel stood up and held out his hand to Harry, "Here, lad. Let he help you get changed out of that monkey suit, and get settled in bed."

"OK, Papa," Harry said, stumbling towards the stairs, almost dead on his feet already. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, for all his excitement. "Will you tell me a story as I fall asleep?"

"Yes, son. Though I doubt I'll get past 'vonce upon a...' before you're fast asleep, little man."

"That's OK, Papa. As long as you're there, it'll be fine."

"All right, my son. Let's get you changed," and he helped him off with all the bits and bobs, taking out a fresh pair of pajamas for him and turning his bed down. His cufflinks, tietack, and family crest all went into his jewelry chest. The Scion's Ring never came off the finger. After a brief stop in the bathroom for necessities and brushed teeth, Harry snuggled down comfortably in his warm bed, put up his glasses, and smiled, saying "Good night, Papa. I love you..."

Followed by Pavel saying, "I love you too, little man. Sleep tight. Now, vonce upon a time there vas a rich young man in Spain who vanted to become a great knight..." and within minutes, Harry's heavy breathing signalled the victory of Orpheus. Pavel gently kissed the boy on the head, and quietly headed back downstairs, as Harry's bedroom ceiling took on the configuration of the nighttime stars with the moon just rising in the east.

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	33. Decompression and the Root of All Magic

**Decompression and the Root of All Magic**

It was 6:30 in the morning. Harry didn't know how he knew that, but he did. Harry woke with a strange sense of clarity he didn't understand, but it felt... good. He sat up, put on his glasses, and padded to his washroom to get started. He felt strangely... different... like he was more _balanced_ , somehow. He washed, showered, brushed his teeth, put his dirty clothes in the hamper, walked over to put on his wand holster and waved his hand, putting on all his clothes with that simple gesture.

His magic... it was different somehow. He wasn't _doing magic_ in the sense that he thought about doing a spell, worked the technique, and made the magic happen. It was as if the magic were just doing things as he thought about the need to do them. He wasn't sure this was how things were supposed to work, but it didn't feel _bad,_ like he was cheating or something. It felt vaguely _right._

He sat down at his desk, realizing he'd forgotten something in all the confusion and upset of yesterday morning. He'd intended to pay for their admission to Euro Disney on their way out of the park before blinking home. What with Papa and the other parents showing up the way they did, the idea had been driven clear out his head. With this new... whatever it was... awareness or whatever, he decided to see if he could work out his solution on his own.

He'd originally known magic through accidental magic, strange things that happened when he had great need or strong emotion at the Dursley's. Like when he first blinked to the top of the school roof. Or when Dudley fell into the snake exhibit at the zoo, and got trapped behind the glass. Or when Aunt Petunia cut all his hair off one day, and it grew back completely just overnight. And then, of course, there was the healing. He knew he'd often been terribly injured by Uncle Vernon, ruptured organs and broken bones, but his body always healed him up very quickly. But he knew he couldn't control any of that. At least not directly, not consciously.

But then there was Hogwarts. At Hogwarts he learned about magic differently. That there was a force of magic "out there somewhere", and that it flowed through him and his will, along with his wand and its components. But that there were motions required of his wand, and words required by his voice. That when all these elements came together properly, there was the execution of a _spell,_ that _magic happened._

But then, there was the advent of the Konstantyn's. Now, his understanding of magic was changing again. There was _wandless magic,_ but even his other professors at Hogwarts admitted of that. There was _wordless magic_ , and the professors, certainly Professor Snape, admitted that to be important. What he was learning most from Papa and John was the role of the _imago_ , the capacity of the mind to clarify an incredibly specific Image, and apply magic to that through the force of will.

Harry was coming to experience the power and flexibility of managing the will and the _imago_ , through practical application and experimentation, rather than theory and lecture.

Somehow, this morning, he felt sort of like he'd _swallowed that._ As if he had an innate understanding, a relationship with interacting through _Imago,_ that was now concrete, where before it may have simply been wishful thinking or fantasizing.

He reflected on all this because he'd wakened with a very clear experiment in mind. As he sat at his desk, he drew out a piece of paper. He also took out the original brochure that had so interested him in Euro Disney. It had an Order Form printed in it, with a promotional discount of 25% off the Admission Tickets. Harry carefully filled out the form, putting the number of admissions, their ages, and the relevant information... without names and addresses, but totaling up all the payment due, including tax.

He then did something very strange. He sat, perfectly still with light shining on his desk, and created a clear image of one of the Admission Booths of the Park. He had seen them, as they prepared to go in, and he cast his mind back to the same exact booths they had bypassed, recalling them in perfect detail. He then focused on _projecting that image of the booth counter top and window_ directly in front of him on his desktop. He tried to reproduce what Papa called his "Diorama" there on his desk.

Harry was successful. Gradually, a mist manifested, and the Ticket Counter appeared in all its perfect detail, including computer, credit card slide charge machines, maps and brochures, everything exactly as it appeared in the Booth... but now, Harry became aware... the projection was no longer Harry's _memory_ of _the Booth_... it had become a representation _of the booth itself in real time._ That is, Harry had now connected from his bedroom desktop, into the reality of the Admission Booth Counter in Paris. He just KNEW this was so, and it was fascinating. He wanted to explore it, question it, fiddle with it, but he knew somehow that if he did, it would stop happening and he didn't want that. Instead he wanted to finish what he'd started.

So he picked up the brochure he had carefully filled out, placed it onto the Admission Booth Countertop, and then impressed his Scion's Ring Seal upon it. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he used _imago_ to project four passes, endorsed as "used", generated from his purchase, and a receipt made out for payment. He grasped and removed the receipt from the Diorama, and then released his _imago_ , allowing the mist to dissipate, along with the projection of the Booth.

He then took down a blank Journal Book, made a starting column for dates, then place or vendor, then description of expenditure. In the first column, he set the date for the children's original trip to the Village, and made entries for the Boar's Tusk, the Quidditch and Toy Store, and the Cafe. He then put yesterday's date, and accounted for the petty cash to the children, and the entry fees to the Park. He accio'd all the receipts he had collected to himself, put them in the back of the Journal, in order, and used the attached ribbon to secure the book closed. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be held to account for his use of the Ring, but if so, these records would help.

As it was only 6:45 as yet, he wanted to experiment a little further with this new ability. He didn't want to get in trouble, however, so he decided the safest thing to do would be to stay with "public spaces" and ask about how this worked at his earliest opportunity. He sat back, cast his mist again, and focused his will and imagination on the Chalet Kitchen. Ordinarily he'd expect John and Papa to be there, probably sitting having coffee. Gradually the image defined, and just as he expected, there they were, Papa reading his paper, and John relaxing leaned back in a stretch. As soon as the Diorama focused to crystal clarity, he saw Papa set his paper down and look around in a moment of confusion.

"Harry?" he said, aloud.

Harry didn't know if he could be heard audibly or not through this, but decided he would answer. "Yes, Papa?" he spoke to the Diorama.

"Ivan, please join Harry, and tell me what you see. Is that all right with you, Harry?"

"Yes, sir, that's fine. I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing or how, I just woke up this morning somehow thinking I could."

"I see..." Pavel said, in a calm voice.

John instantly materialized alongside Harry, who was still seated at his desk.

"Wow, Squirt. That's pretty impressive," John patted Harry on the back. "Papa, can you hear me, OK?" John spoke to the Diorama's representation of his father at the table.

"I can. Vot has Harry done? Though I think I know..."

"Well, I believe he's constructed a skrying window, using your Diorama as a model. He just synthesized the two. Seems pretty functional. We see the kitchen, the kitchen table, and you, as if through a skrying window. But instead of being a two dimensional representation on a screen, it's a three dimensional representation on a mist, just like your Dioramas."

"See if you can hand me something through it, Harry..." Pavel instructed.

"Yessir," Harry answered, as he reached for the first object that came to hand, his accounting journal, and placed it on the Kitchen table.

Pavel picked it up, thumbed through it, and put it back down. "Wery good, Harry. I'm glad you've thought to keep a record like this. That is a very responsible thing to do."

Harry smiled at the praise, "Well, it seems like you keep records of all the Estates resources. Just seemed right."

"Vell, vy don't you dismiss your Diorama, and join us here for a bite of something, eh? It seems you've had a busy morning already." Papa smiled with the invitation.

"Yes, Papa. Be right there, one moment." Harry turned back towards his room, waved a hand, and set the room in perfect order before nodding to John and generating the imago to blink to the Kitchen, while he yet pondered what was happening and the nature of Magic.

* * *

The next moment, he was NOT in the Kitchen as he expected to be, but rather on a vast dusty red plane under a darkling sky. Mountain peaks surrounded him at a vast distance in all directions. There was a warm orange glow of light, more than sufficient to see clearly, but having no particular source. Light perfused the space from the edges, seemingly beyond the mountains.

Harry felt anxious about having come here, rather than where he intended, but nothing set off his internal danger alarms about the space itself. In fact, this all felt vaguely familiar... Then he remembered. He'd been here before when he and Papa had dealt with the dreamscape of Gilderoy Lockhart. He wondered if somehow he'd entered Lockhart's mind again, but even as he articulated the question to himself, he shook his head knowing that wasn't right.

This was HIS space, Harry's space, somehow. He felt "at home" here, even though he didn't know where he was, how he got here, or how he could leave. He reached out with his mind, to contact Pavel or John and found... emptiness... nothing. While that felt more than somewhat disturbing, he didn't feel panic or fear. There was a sense of their "not being needed" here in this space. He was more alone than he had ever felt before in his life, and yet that felt OK in some strange way.

Off in the distance he could see light more brightly on the horizon than any other direction, so he decided to walk that way. Perhaps he'd find an exit. After what seemed like a few minutes, thinking he'd not made much forward progress, he decided to try to transform into a Wyvern again. He thought he'd make better travel time. Closing his eyes to focus his imago on the form he desired, the impelled that "push" from his gut that accompanied successful magic and "Poof" a small lean Wyvern appeared on the ground in his place.

He felt drawn to that bright light, so now, able to cover much greater distance faster, he pushed off airborne and followed a path that had appeared going his direction. As he drew closer to the edge where the light was brightest, the pathway below him forked into two paths. Looking ahead, he could see that the light before him split in two, and at the end of each path there was some kind of structure where the light focused. He landed at the fork in the road, returning to human form. As he looked forward on the paths, he could just barely see that there were structures at the end. There were some sort of towers there. One had a greenish cast, the other looked violet.

Down the path towards the green light, Harry though he could see a figure in the distance beckoning him. He transformed again into a Wyvern and flew down the path trying to catch the beckoning figure. He, or she for that matter... Harry couldn't get a good enough look to tell, had disappeared. As he approached the end of the path, he saw that it terminated into a tall tower, as one would expect at the corner of a castle or keep. Something was drawing him that direction, as though a song or tune he could barely hear.

Harry's intuition was very active, and he became aware that he needed to walk the rest of this path in human form. As he landed and walked forward, he had the awareness that everything around him seemed alive. There was grass and hedge, there was moss growing on and between the stones of the pathway he walked. Ahead of him, he could see thorn hedges rising from the ground, forming a tunnel or an arbor over the path. Everything seemed alive, and in some strange way, sentient. The grass, the stones, the hedges of thorns, all leading up to this great tower rising before him... all seemed to be aware of his presence... both welcoming and threatening at the same time. There was no further sign of the figure he thought he'd seen beckoning him.

As he reached the arbor of thorns, he could see there was no way to judge the path before him. It curved away out of sight in just a few yards. Yet the closer he got the more inundated he was with a sense of the _identity and sentience_ of all the living things around him... there were birds, insects, plant life of all kinds, and... beyond the _living things_ he could sense the very _being-ness_ of the stones beneath him and before him. It was all very strange, surreal, as their seeming consciousness was not only individual, but congregate... not just this bird, but all birds... not just this stone, but the earth itself, and so on. He walked along the path, finding it became a winding ramp ascending this great tower before him.

Harry reached the top of the ramp and stepped onto the "roof" of the tower, finding before him a great round obelisk at the center. The surface of the obelisk was smooth polished stone, like obsidian. As he approached it, the scar on his forehead began to vibrate and hurt, with a burning sensation like a wound being opened. The closer he got, the longer he stood atop the tower, the greater the pain and blood began to seep from the wound. Intuitively he knew he had to approach the great central spire, and after a certain point the pain of his scar did not increase anymore. He reached up to press on his scar, and pulled his hand away feeling the warm sticky ooze of blood. But as he pulled his hand away, staring at the stains on his palm, the darkness dried before his eyes, peeling away, then breaking up into dust that floated off into smoke that looked like the creature that blew away from the dungeon with the Philosopher's Stone.

The rooftop took on the appearance of a jungle rainforest, and the obelisk looked like a great monolith sprouting from ruins of an ancient temple. It seemed to call to him somehow. He found its pull to be irresistible, even while the pain and bleeding from his scar increased with each step as he approached. Harry had the impression that he was surrounded by names. That somehow, he belonged here... that this obelisk belonged to him... or he to it... in some strange way that made no sense. And while he could not _see_ any names inscribed on the rock, he sensed that they were somehow there, and that his name belonged there as well.

Finally, he reached the stone surface and green vines and leaves cleared a space right in front of him. Then, a stylus emerged from the rock surface and the stone seemed to become soft or elastic. Keeping his left hand tightly pressed against his scar, that continued to bleed but then evaporate in black dust, he reached out to take the stylus in his right hand. He knew he was to use it to write on the wall. Before him, on the stone surface, words formed: "What is your name?" they said.

Taking the stylus in hand, Harry inscribed: "Harry Potter", on the soft stone surface.

No sooner had he finished inscribing the "r" of "Potter" before the surface cleared itself smooth again, and responded to him... "No! What is your TRUE NAME?"

Harry considered the question for a moment, then inscribed: "Harry James Potter Konstantyn".

This time, the letters remained on the surface a bit longer. But again, the rock face cleared itself before him. "That is not your TRUE NAME", it said.

The scar stopped bleeding at last, though it still throbbed. Harry didn't know what to do. He KNEW, by direct intuition, that his name, his TRUE NAME, belonged on this stone. But he realized, he really didn't know what his TRUE NAME was. His name had been "changing" throughout his life. He was "Potter", yes. But was he also "Dursley"? Was he now "Konstantyn"? Yes, yes... he could feel the rightness of that, he knew that was part of the answer.

Then, he had a strange thought. He decided to try something...

Harry made a fist with his right hand, and decided to press his ring, his Scion's Ring, into the yielding rock.

Slowly, reverently, he pressed his right fist into the rock surface. The Konstantyn Family Crest had impressed itself clearly into the stone. Harry waited, to see if the surface smoothed itself, feeling encouraged as the Crest persisted over time. But still, Harry knew he wasn't finished. Something more needed to happen here, so he just waited.

His patience was rewarded as the impressed Crest began to glow in front of him. Then, it grew. The Seal did not have his Silver Ring around it, but its diameter grew to approximately two inches. Right in front of his face, he looked upon the Konstantyn Crest, as it molded itself into hard stone.

Then, and only then, did the seal on the rock face begin to glow... at first with a bright golden light, and then brilliant red. It was "heating up". Harry could feel the lines of the signet heating to red, then white hot... like a brand. The wall challenged him wordlessly. He knew that to "inscribe his TRUE NAME", he needed to press his right palm down onto the Crest. The thought filled him with fear. He could see, he could feel, that the white heat of the Seal would burn him terribly.

He couldn't do it!

But... but... he HAD to do it! He knew, absolutely knew, that to inscribe his TRUE NAME on this obelisk, he had to commit himself... his very flesh... to that Seal.

Well, he had known pain before... even terrible pain. He could do this. It should only take a moment. And he knew it was the right thing.

Slowly, trembling only the briefest bit, he stretched his flattened palm out towards the glowing Crest.

Then... PRESSED his flesh down firmly! And then, he screamed!

The PAIN! It was overwhelming! It rolled over him and through him. For one horrid moment, the pain of the burning was beyond imagining... but then, the skin stopped burning and felt numb, but he could smell his own flesh charring. Suddenly, brilliant light, like a bolt, shot out from the Crest between his fingers into/onto the Lightning Scar on his forehead. A flash of white hot flame seemed to pierce his head, at the site of the scar, leaving painless peace in its wake. Harry raised his left hand to the Scar, and for the first time ever, felt... nothing. There was no feeling to it beyond the stitched skin feel of any natural scar. There was no pain, no heat, no sense of wound or foreboding. There was no more blood seeping from it. In some very odd way, he felt like it was "gone", or at least any magical effect of it was. It was now nothing more than an innocuous mark.

With that, the pain of his hand dissipated as well. In fact, there was no pain anywhere, as light still filtered from between his fingers and through the back of his hand from the palm. Carefully, filled with trepidation and hesitancy, Harry removed his hand from the wall, fearing that he'd be pulling away just a charred mass of burnt flesh... but... no...

He removed the hand to see just the glowing Seal on that wall, and turned his hand over to see the palm. For just a moment, he could see the glowing brand embedded in his palm, but then it faded and the skin covering the flesh of his hand looked as whole and hale as ever. Not even redness, let alone blistering or scarring. And yet, it seemed as if he could now "see" the Crest of House Konstantyn embedded in the flesh of his hand, just below the surface of the skin.

He could see that his TRUE NAME had been accepted by the Stone... "Harry James Potter Konstantyn, Scion of House Konstantyn".

As he turned from the obelisk, his vision had changed, his hearing had changed, his senses of smell, touch, and taste had changed as well. He could sense everything around him as alive, sentient, and seeking to touch him. It was all both very confusing, and utterly exciting at the same time.

For long rich moments, Harry simply stood completely still drinking it all in! He could see... He was part of... the WHOLE WORLD! And he absolutely positively KNEW... WHERE HE FIT IN IT!

* * *

 **In the Kitchen of the Chalet...**

Pavel and John stood, confused and frightened, as their senses could not discern Harry anywhere at all. After casting their nets of presence, even Pavel casting a pure net of Prime, seeking Harry's magical signature anywhere on the planet... the two of them discussed whether Harry was "hiding" in some way, if this were some prank, or if he could have been abducted by an enemy who could occlude him?

As they pondered these things, there grew an awareness in Pavel that, "No..." that nothing was "wrong" in that way. There was a deep seated peace of mind and heart that all was well.

Ivan had no such comfort. He was fearful, upset, and angry. He wasn't sure who to be angry at... if this were Harry's doing, Ivan planned to make him regret it. If this were an enemy's, he planned to remove them from even the memory of eternity. His father shared his growing sense of peace, and tried to calm him, but to no avail.

Then... it HAPPENED.

Suddenly, both Pavel and Ivan were struck... almost like a blow to the heart within their chests... by a dizzying strike of magical force and conscious awareness... of HARRY! Both of them momentarily lost track of their own selves and identities, as suddenly they were awash with the presence and power of Harry. It was as if, for the instant, They were Harry, and Harry was Them, and together they were all One. This grip, this grasp, of Oneness held them for nearly a minute, before it faded sufficiently for them to breathe and think individually again.

Both of them collapsed into chairs at the Kitchen table, as if their legs could not support them. Their chests burned. Their hands burned. Both of them felt, then saw, the right palm of their hands glow generally at first, and then focus down laserlike into the Seal, the Crest of House Konstantyn branded into their own hands at their Awakenings, when they'd inscribed their names and blazoned their Rings, into the Watchtower that had chosen them.

Suddenly, the full awareness of what had happened dawned upon them. They knew there was nothing wrong. But they also knew, there was nothing now to be done, but wait.

John spoke first, in a tone of amazement, "This cannot be... Father! It's... it's too soon! He is too young!"

Pavel nodded, still staring at his own hand, "I agree. Nonetheless, Ivan... It is done. Clearly, Majick disagrees with you. Harry clearly has found and inscribed his TRUE NAME. Equally clearly, that name includes 'Konstantyn'. Congratulations, Ivan. Our heir is confirmed."

And they sat in silence, as they continued patiently... to wait.

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	34. Jury of One's Peers

**Inebriated and Uninhibited**

Harry stood atop the _Watchtower of the Singing Stone_ , inundated with the sense of life and its spirit surrounding and saturating him. It was a heady brew of presence, power, and shared identity. He was aware of himself, yes... but only as being a part of, a member of, an element of a greater whole that was life, the universe, and everything. He actually giggled a moment, naming himself _**"42"**_ , as he was a Douglas Adams fan, thinking to himself, _"Deep Thought was searching for me!"_

Such nonsense free associated through his head until he decided that he must DO something in this new condition. But what? What could he do, that would give him pleasure, in this new role of _One-With-the-Great-Cosmic-All?_ He knew! He'd _transform_ into something! But what? It had to be something cool! Something awesome! Something... Magical! Yes, MAGICAL! What was the coolest most awesome magical creature he knew? He pondered...

"FAWKES!" he said to himself. "HE'S the coolest magical creature I know... Healing... strength... immortality... loyalty... Yes, Fawkes!"

So Harry began to _breathe_. But he raised his arms up like conducting an orchestra, and began to breathe with deep draughts of air. Not panting, but filling his lungs to ever greater capacity. His eyes closed and he focused on Fawkes as he knew him, and transforming into his own form of a Phoenix! He wanted to enfold the entire universe within his wings, and pull it tightly to his breast!

Standing there, atop the Watchtower of the Singing Stone, surrounded by a nearly _fluid_ density of life and spirit, Harry began to grow and transform until, within a minute, there he stood in the guise of a gorgeous Phoenix... not the petite size of Fawkes, but rather in the form of the Mighty Thuderbird of Native American legend. He was the size of a healthy dragon, as he launched from the tower's roof... rising past the obelisk, rising high over the plain.

Harry kept breathing, kept growing, kept inhaling... he wanted to reach the stars, to touch them. He wanted to encompass all that he could feel around him, bring it into himself. He was inhaling and expelling so much so fast, he had no idea the acceleration he was applying to his own Phoenix form.

Finally, there came a moment when he felt he'd reached his _"maximum",_ whatever that meant. He was as big as he could be, as powerful as he could be, as beautiful as he could be. He was his own Pinnacle, and he was totally and utterly satisfied. He'd never had such a moment before in his life. It was utter rapture, and for just an instant his mind turned to Fawkes in gratitude for this great gift.

But in that same instant, he knew stabbing pain... grief... fear! He had touched Fawkes himself in that moment, and was filled with terror and grief over his friend, his master... Dumbledore. PAIN! Again, PAIN! Albus Dumbledore was in tremendous pain! He was hurt, he was injured, he was trembling and consumed with guilt and shame. And Harry/Fawkes - as for the moment he experienced himself - could do nothing to help! Not his strength, not his tears, not his song. Nothing! No help! He was a failure, and Master Albus needed HELP! NOW!

This thought, this realization, raised to a panic pitch in Harry as he withdrew his identity from that of Fawkes, returning to his individual presence in the sky above his Oneros. He had to do something! But he had no idea what...

When suddenly... it was as if a giant pin stabbed at his breast like an inflated balloon. He felt _"done, finished, doomed"._ He had forgotten a critical truth of the Phoenix. They were only immortal in that they _Recycled_. In what seemed merely an instant, his feathers turned tatty and frayed, and he... high up over the plains of his own Oneros... began to burn. From the edges inwards, his feathers glowed, then shimmered with sparking embers, then flared into a great conflagration as... in just moments... Harry Potter Konstantyn, Scion of House Konstantyn... the Boy Who Lived... Hope of the Wizarding World... was utterly immolated, and rendered to naught but ash... carried away by the merest wind.

* * *

 **Kitchen of the Chalet - 7:15 a.m.**

Dobby materialized between Pavel and Ivan, breathless and trembling.

"Masters, Dobby is so sorry. Dobby has failed! Dobby does not know what to do!"

"Calm yourself, my friend. What's wrong?" Pavel reached out to embrace the diminutive House Elf.

"Master Harry is lost! Dobby has lost him. Dobby doesn't know where he is, and cannot find him anywhere! This has never happened before. Dobby ALWAYS knows where Master Harry is! Dobby can ALWAYS see Master Harry when needed!"

John rose from his seat to pour more coffee for Papa and himself, and poured a cup of tea for Dobby, as Papa ushered the elf to the "extra chair" at the table where Oxsana usually sat. They left Harry's customary chair vacant, just in case. John put the teacup in front of Dobby, and spooned two sugars into it with a stir, as Papa guided Dobby to sit.

"O Masters, Dobby cannot sit at table with you's! That would not be proper!"

John and Pavel resumed their seats with their coffee as Pavel said, "Dobby, right now we are not 'masters' and you are not 'house elf', we are all 'family' awaiting Harry's return. Just to comfort you, please know... Harry is not in trouble by any means. He is not in danger, and he is not even really 'lost'. We know where he is, and he is completely safe. But for the moment, he is unreachable. He should return soon, and you may as well be here with us so we can comfort you, as go off alone and fret and worry as you would."

Dobby was so moved by such consideration... by being called 'family'... that he almost began sobbing. As his sniffling just began to start...

Pavel laughed at him with sympathy, saying... _"Dobby, Elf of House Konstantyn... I command that you not cry!"_ He'd used his "judge's voice" as Harry called it, startling the little elf. "Harry is safe and sound, and you will wait here with us for his return... unless you cry! Now... trust us, and drink your tea! And that reminds me... you are improperly dressed!"

Dobby looked down at his clothing in shock, typically wearing his six neckties and his Hogwarts jumper... to see what was amiss. As he watched, Pavel raised his hand, splaying out his fingers as if spraying liquid at Dobby. Suddenly, Dobby's ill-fitting Hogwarts slate gray sweater turned a bright Royal Blue, shrinking and tucking into a perfect fit, as the Konstantyn crest glowed golden imprinting itself brilliantly over the right breast.

"NOW, little one, you are properly liveried for service here. At Hogwarts, you may choose to wear what you prefer. But here... THIS is your proper attire. You are family and kinfolk to Harry and to us... You will wear our Crest in this domain. None who serve me may refuse you when you wear that crest in gold. You will see others with it in white, black, blue, or silver. But only seneschal's... heads of departments, or stewards of facilities or quarters, masters and managers, are authorized to wear it in gold. That says you are my trusted ally, that I may trust you with my life or those of my sons. I know you are worthy of such trust. Is this agreeable to you?" Pavel smiled at Dobby's look of utter shock.

"Oh, Master Papa... Oh... Oh..." Dobby could only stammer.

"Good. I thought so... Now, drink you tea and we will patiently await our wandering Scion," Pavel smiled with a sidelong glance at Ivan.

* * *

Only moments later, Harry materialized in his accustomed Kitchen chair - his original Blink destination when he'd gotten sidetracked. But he arrived wild-eyed and breathless. Arms akimbo, he tried to stand but could not hold his balance. His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets as though he could not see properly or orient himself.

Dobby leapt up in an instant, hopping from one foot to another, wringing his hands with concern, but uncertain how to help.

Ivan and Pavel were also instantly on their feet, as Big Brother took station behind Harry's chair with both hands on his shoulders to steady him, and Pavel in front of him, one hand on his forehead and one on his chest. Gently they pulled his chair clear of the table, so there was room to work if there was anything to do. They did not "invade" him, neither to heal nor reorient him mentally or emotionally. They knew it was best to let the mage reorient himself in these circumstances, though it was demanding the utmost of their discipline to contain themselves.

Harry kept trying to stand, as Pavel and Ivan didn't restrain him, but tried to help him hold steady not to fall. Neither of them could intervene directly to help. In this moment, Harry had to recover and sort himself out on his own. Any interference from outside could distort Harry's "reorientation" to normal space and time. It should not take long, only moments. But the delay was infuriating for those who could do nothing more than watch.

By a minute or so later, Harry's eyes began to focus around him, even though they remained disturbingly dilated as clearly he was "seeing" in ranges well beyond normal vision and light. He was trying to speak, but could only grunt with guttural monosyllables.

"Ugh... ugh..." he reached out towards Pavel... "Help him!..." Harry's eyes focused desperately on Pavel, clearly tormented... "You must HELP him! PLEASE!"

John asked, "Who, Harry? Are you all right? Help WHO? What's wrong, Little Brother?" John then looked at his father, "Papa? Can you join with his mind? Can you see what he's talking about?"

"No, Ivan. I cannot. Not with him in this state. Even to try to enter his mind to observe, I could unwittingly interfere with the... the 'rewiring' so to speak that he is doing. I could confuse the pathways he is laying down. Until he has settled a bit I can do nothing. We MUST wait a bit longer."

Harry had heard John's question, had been making massive effort to answer, although from his perspective, this environment, the Kitchen, was just fading in and out of clarity. Finally he screamed, "DUMBLEDORE! He's hurt! He needs help! Fawkes is crying to me! PLEASE! Go get Dumbledore, we must help him!"

Pavel answered, "We will see to it, Harry. But Ivan and I are not leaving you. But we will get help for him." Turning to Dobby, Pavel asked, "Dobby? Would you please go find the Headmaster and see how he is? See if anything is wrong. If something is wrong, and he is willing, bring him to my Study and I will be there as soon as possible. If nothing is wrong, or if he refuses to come, just return here and inform us, please?"

"Yes, Master Papa, I shall be right back," and Dobby disappeared with a finger snap in a puff of smoke.

It was about two more minutes before Harry, having overheard Pavel's instructions and calming considerably, had now settled quietly down at the table with his eyes focusing properly. His breathing and pulse had returned to normal, his eyes seemed to be processing light properly, and, while he seemed a bit tired, he sat at the kitchen table looking and acting like a "normal boy".

Both John and Pavel had released him from their grip, and poured him cups of cocoa and tea, unsure of which he would prefer. They refrained from asking him questions, knowing where he's been, what he'd done, and that "discussion" of such things was neither permissible nor possible. Each mage had their own unique experience of Awakening, and it was the ultimate in intimacy. It wasn't so much that "rules didn't allow" discussion. It was rather that the nature of the event was simply ineffable. The bulk of the experience was visceral... there was no explanation possible.

While Harry recovered, cradling his head in his hands at the Kitchen Table, looking for all the world like a young man with the world's worst hangover, Pavel was spoken to by Albus Dumbledore.

 _"Pavel? I understand you are looking for me?" the Headmaster's interior voice sounded a bit tired._

 _"Yes, and I beg your pardon for disturbing your holiday time, but Harry insisted we check on you, saying that you needed help and Fawkes was calling to him of your need. Are you well? Are you in need of help? Would you be willing to come join us at the moment. I'm sure it will help settle Harry down to see you." Pavel answered._

 _"Well, old friend, I shall assuredly come, but I'm not sure that will give Harry comfort," Albus answered._

 _"How so, Headmaster?" Pavel replied, with a vague sense of foreboding._

 _"I'm afraid I've done something rather stupid. I was thinking of contacting you anyway, but hesitated to disturb your holiday," Albus almost chuckled._

 _"Well then," Pavel mentally nodded, "please come ahead and join us. Dobby will bring you to my Study, and we shall see what we can do to help. Have you breakfasted yet?"_

 _"No, that's rather slipped my mind under the circumstances."_

 _"Very well," Pavel replied to Albus before opening his words to both him and Dobby. "Dobby, please see Headmaster Dumbledore to my Study, the comfortable chairs near the fireplace, and bring a light breakfast tray with tea and coffee. We shall join him there very shortly."_

 _"Yes, Master Papa. Right away." Dobby nodded._

As the time approached 7:30 and he knew Severus and Minerva to be early risers, he spoke with them.

 _"Good Morning, Friends," as both Minerva and Severus realized they were both active in the loop. "It would seem something is not right with Albus. He needs some sort of help and is on his way here to my Study. I shall have coffee, tea, and some nibbles there before we serve full on breakfast. Would you be kind enough to join us? Severus, Draco is welcome either to come or remain home, whichever you prefer."_

 _"I'll be right down," Minerva replied._

 _"And I'll be right there," Severus echoed._

 _"Thank you both," Pavel concluded._

"Drink some chocolate, Harry," John urged, handing him a cup of steaming cocoa. "It'll help, truly..." as Harry reached for the beverage and began sipping it gratefully.

* * *

 **Pavel's Study at the Chalet - 7:35 a.m.**

Dumbledore sat quietly at the end of the comfortable couch, as Fawkes - Albus' loyal familiar, who had refused to leave his shoulder before they arrived - flew off to bask in the morning sunlight pouring through a southeast window. Dobby served Albus a cup of strong breakfast tea with two sugars, per his request, and a small plate of danish and a buttered roll. Minerva entered a moment later, and sat down beside him, explaining that Pavel and family would join them in just a few minutes.

Pavel then asked the House Elves caring for all the Gasthausen to let the grownups know that they were welcome to breakfast at their own tables, if they preferred, or that breakfast was also being served in the Pavilion if they cared to gather, at 8:30. They could either come, or sleep in, or relax on their own at home... whatever suited them best.

Harry had recovered considerably with his steaming mug of cocoa and some biscuits, and urgently wanted to see and speak with Albus, to find out what was wrong and see how he could help. The three Konstantyn men, as Pavel now thought of them, made their way to the Study just as Severus walked in the front door, answering his summons.

Minerva poured the tea or coffee, as everyone took seats surrounding Albus, to hear whatever news there was to share. The man looked very pale, and far older than anyone had ever seen him look before. Haggard, he was, without his accustomed twinkle or the grin that always seemed just behind his lips and cheeks.

"Ah, my friends," he began, in a thin watery voice most unlike his usual confident tones, "this is both embarrassing and unfortunate. I would have been much better advised to accept your gracious invitation to feast with you last night, John... than to pursue the foolishness I did."

Minerva compassionately reached out to take his hand in comfort, and was surprised when he eased his sleeve out of her reach.

"No, Minerva. Please don't do that," he grimaced, as silence fell over the company.

"Albus," Pavel began, "I've asked you to come because Harry is terribly upset. He has just experienced an event of major import to his own development in magery, as he unexpectedly endured a rite of passage we did not expect for a number of years yet," he shook his head as questions formed on the faces of all who had not been there. "Never mind about that for the moment. The reason I mention this is that this event includes considerable 'expansion of consciousness', and can be a bit... er... 'disorienting' for a time. So when Harry returned, John and I were not surprised that he seemed a bit confused and disoriented. However, the very first words he could speak... were that you needed help, Albus. He begged us to go find you, save you, help you. He had apparently linked in some way with Fawkes, and experienced Fawkes terror on your behalf that he could not help you or heal you.

"So please, Albus... Clearly something serious is going on, and we can see that you are in some distress. What is wrong, and how can we help?"

Albus took a deep breath, considering for a moment. Then finally, he said, "I suppose it was ridiculous to imagine I could deceive such a group of talented magical will workers as you, or fail to disclose the absolute truth. All right then. The absolute truth is that I have foolishly done something both quite stupid, and quite wrong."

As Albus spoke, Fawkes began to flutter and fuss, beating his wings and trilling in an agitated way.

"Hush, Fawkes!" Albus scolded. "I'm telling them, I'm telling them," he said, as he reached for his cup of tea with his left hand. His right he kept folded in the voluminous sleeves of his heavy brocade robes, moving his right arm little if at all. "You see, friends, once upon a time long ago I was a very ambitious wizard, quite sure of myself, sure of what was right and what was wrong, and I had friends as ambitious and certain as I. Some of this is history as you know it, but much of it is not. You all know I eventually defeated Grindelwald, but very few know how foolish I was before that or the full cost of my foolishness. To this day, my brother Aberforth barely acknowledges my existence for the harm and pain I brought my family."

Everyone listened, spellbound and enraptured, never having seen Albus Dumbledore reveal such self doubt or vulnerability before. Pavel and Ivan sat on a loveseat, keeping Harry between them as slowly he seemed to regain his strength and orientation. But Harry kept looking intently at both Albus and Fawkes, as Fawkes seemed equally focused on Harry, trilling from time to time as though trying to speak with him.

"I had a passion, an obsession at one time, to find and possess all of the Deathly Hallows. I spent years hunting them down, but could never locate the Resurrection Stone. After some of my family's tragedy, I sought even more intently for this artifact, but never succeeded in finding it. But my investigations had led me to a final possibility, that the stone had come into the possession of Marvolo Gaunt. When you opened your plans, Pavel, to find and neutralize all the horcruxes... I suddenly saw the possibility, and determined that before you got to Marvolo Gaunt's ring I would make one more attempt to possess it. It was maddening to realize that Tom Riddle WORE that ring as a student here, and neither he nor I had the slightest idea that the Resurrection Stone was within our reach.

"Three days ago, I traveled to Little Hangleton, to the Gaunt Shack, and searched... with painstaking care. I found and neutralized masking spells, wards, and protections to find a small gold box hidden under the floorboards of the ruined shack. Opening the box, I found a simple gold ring inlaid with a smooth black stone, on which was engraved the symbol of the Deathly Hallows... the Bisected Circle and Triangle. I hid my hard won booty and journeyed homewards to Hogwarts feeling I'd fulfilled a lifelong dream.

"But somehow, a touch of madness crept in," Albus shook his head sadly, as Fawkes trilled a low dirge and flew across the room to rest on his left shoulder, tenderly caressing Dumbledore's cheek with gentle strokes of his head. "I knew, as I opened the box and removed the ring onto my desk... I KNEW I held a horcrux in my hands. But at the same moment, I knew I held the Resurrection Stone... the river rock handed to Cadmus Peverell, the arrogant man who decided that he wanted to humiliate Death, and asked for the power to recall others from Death.

"Rather than call to you for help, perhaps neutralizing the horcrux and curse, but preserving the artifact, a mean narrow spirit of deception or concealment overtook me. I would NOT disclose, I would NOT share. I would POSSESS this for MYSELF ALONE. I even forgot my own loremastery, that the Stone was originally loose, and is used by turning it in the palm of one's hand thrice. I was utterly bedazzled by the shining golden ring and all the promise it seemed to hold.

"So, last night, alone in my tower... Well, alone but for Fawkes here... I picked it up, and I put it on, and for a second I imagined that I thought I was about to see Ariana, and my mother, and my father, and to tell them how very, very sorry I was..." and Albus' voice drifted away into heartbroken hoarseness... and the room went silent.

Pavel sadly had closed his eyes and bowed his head being all too familiar with the nature of temptation, and passion, and the battle within one's soul to resist reaching for the greatest of one's dreams. He did not judge this old friend. He grieved for him.

No one spoke, waiting respectfully until the Headmaster was ready to continue.

"The irony is," Albus continued, as he began to pull his right hand from the folds of his robe, "that Tom Riddle never thought of the ring as anything but a family heirloom with which to memorialize his revenge on Morfin Gaunt, having him blamed for the death of Tom Riddle, Sr., the second of the Riddle boy's murders." As Albus' right wrist pulled free of its coverings, its blackish gray hue made clear the dead cursed flesh that now clung to the metacarpals and phalages supporting what used to be the old man's right hand. At the same time, he drew out the wrecked remains of the ring itself.

"I put it on in my momentary madness, and the curse upon it laid me low. There was no vision of my loved ones, only pain that dug deep into every part of me. The death of this hand, I fear, only presages the general death I feel creeping over me. I hope to get my work done before losing the battle. At least the Sword of Gryffindor was able to cleft the ring in twain, as they say.

"Well, brethren, there is my confession. I've already suffered sentence being passed, I believe. I suppose I simply await your verdict. I hope you do not judge me too harshly. Even I can be but a foolish old man once in a while."

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	35. Generation After Regeneration

**Generation After Regeneration**

Everyone just sat rather still and silent after Headmaster Dumbledore finished speaking. His closing remarks made it all sound like a court proceeding. Fawkes' urgent concern and trilling were the only sounds in the room.

"How, then, would you have us help, Old Friend?" Pavel asked, in a compassionate, non accusatory tone.

"Well," Albus chuckled, "Fawkes has been unceasing in his complaints, that his tears cannot seem to stem the progress of my affliction, along with his castigation of my foolishness."

Fawkes seemingly understood all, as he uttered a much louder cry, and nearly pecked at Albus' ear from his shoulder perch.

"I thought perhaps Severus, with his healing skills, might help stem the spread of this curse, as it is progressing up my arm at a rather alarming rate," Albus said, for the first time pulling up his billowy robe sleeves to expose the gray streaks gradually working their way up his forearm.

Snape stepped over, to kneel next to him and cradle his hand and arm in his own. The damage was extensive and reeked of dark magic. "Merlin!" he breathed, in shocked amazement. "Silly bugger," he whispered, mostly to himself. "What'd you go messing with such things, for? You knew better!" he muttered, as he'd pulled out his wand seeking to understand the nature of the curse and damage, hoping to remove it, or at least arrest and contain it. "John!" he called, looking up, "please come check this out with me!" he requested, knowing Ivan's magic of body healing was stronger than his own.

John complied, but said, "I can help, certainly," after a few moments diagnosing the situation. "But I cannot just 'remove' or 'heal' this. Much of what I do for my own wounds, or Papa's is based on 'blood magic' we share by our natures. It won't apply to Uncle Albus. And I can heal otherwise healthy tissue that's been traumatized, like when you fought the Basilisk... but this is cursed flesh. I can bolster the resistance of the flesh surrounding it. That should slow down the progress of this creeping death. But I can't seem to affect the cursed flesh itself. I'm sorry... I'll do my best. Perhaps Papa can deal with the curse?" he asked, looking up at Pavel.

"All right," Pavel began. Let's get a little better working situation here, shall we?" and with a wave of Pavel's wand, Albus found himself reclining on a hospital bed, his cursed arm supported by a rolling surgical tray, in the midst of what appeared to be a miniature operating theatre. Those who had been seated still were, in an elevated semi-circle surrounding the opposite side of Albus' bed, from where Severus, John, and now Pavel were examining the arm. Albus' robe sleeve had been removed, so any progress of the degeneration could be clearly seen. Fawkes had remained perched on Albus' shoulder, now also gaining a bit of support from the pillows propping him up.

Keeping a part of his mind yet firmly fixed on Harry, who seemed to be yet melded in some strange way with Fawkes, Pavel placed his hands on either side of Albus' hand and arm, being careful not to come into direct contact with it. His hands glowed golden, creating a nimbus surrounding the arm and hand, as his eyes closed and his face took on a slight grimace as though tasting something sour. After a moment, the glow faded and Pavel opened his eyes, withdrawing his hands.

"That's a very intense curse, and yes, I can remove it. Two things, first... One, I'd like to have Bill Weasley join us, since his profession has become a focus on removal of curses, and this will provide him a valuable experience. Two, Ivan, please have Oxsana join us, so that I have a strong Mind Mage here to back me up. I'm not saying it's necessary or critical, but this will be intense and it's just proper form that I engage a backup in case of unusual need."

Ivan dispatched Dobby to see if Bill Weasley would join them, as he mind-spoke to Oxsana, and in a few minutes both had arrived. In the meantime, Albus kept waiting for the "other shoe to drop", half expecting to be castigated by Pavel for having such a disastrous lapse of judgment. He could, within himself, tell that this curse was of deadly strength. Only his utmost efforts were holding it at bay, and left on its own the curse would have killed him within days.

It seemed no time before both Bill and Oxsana were present with them, and had been briefed on the situation.

Pavel made clear that he intended only to unravel the curse, using his skill in Prime... the arcanum encompassing the essential nature of Magic itself, along with some unwinding of Fate. This curse had been fated to be a critical component of the circumstances leading to the demise of Albus Dumbledore. That was about to be unbound, and in so loosing its destiny, make the curse more amenable to removal.

"William?" Pavel smiled at young Weasley, "We have far too valuable an opportunity here for you to take part in unbinding this curse, for me to ignore your chosen career path and sequester from you. I'd like to make clear that by no means would you ever attempt this on your own. Please note, as skilled and strong as I myself am, I have a great deal of support here and am specifically asking Oxsana to monitor my own well being and condition while we do this. John, Oxsana, Harry... frankly everyone in this room... can attest to you how serious I am about minimizing risk when doing something dangerous. THIS... messing with this kind of deadly creeping curse, is dangerous."

"Pavel?" Albus interrupted. "I don't want you doing anything dangerous for me. This was my own fault, consequence of my own decision. I'm resigned to whatever outcome results. Please don't..."

"My dear friend," Pavel smiled, "It is far too late in our lives to tell me not to do dangerous things. I LIVE doing dangerous things. But I will not do anything without weighing the risks and minimizing them. William, here, has determined to build his career doing dangerous things as well. Please allow me to show him how to do so minimizing his own. Oxsana?" he said, turning to his god daughter, "Please monitor my self-awareness and be prepared either to alert me if something seems wrong, or pull me out of wherever I may be lost. All right?"

"Yes, Papa Pavel, I understand," she nodded, knowing this "tethered lifeguard" posture of holding an anchor in present space/time.

"Right," Pavel said brightly, turning to William. "Now, we've not worked together before, I know..." and he paused right here, looking away vacantly, then said, "Heavens, I sound like a stage magician... Anyvay, may I have limited access to your mind, to show you the strands of magic active here in a vay you are not accustomed to seeing them?"

Bill nodded as he said, "Certainly, Professor. Go ahead."

"Ah, so trusting you are..." Pavel chuckled, as he moved two chairs over alongside the tray table supporting Albus' cursed hand and arm. He had already banished Albus sleeves, exposing the arm up to just inches below the shoulder. "Now, William... or do you prefer Bill? Or Mr. Weasley, for that matter? How do you prefer that I address you?"

"Oh, please... Mr. Weasley is still my father to me. Bill is fine, or William. Most people call me Bill," he smiled.

"Very well then, Bill... look here upon the Headmaster's arm vith your natural eyes, ya?" and he waited until he could see that Bill had focused entirely on this image. "And now, let yourself see the flow of supernal energy, of magic, within and around the hand and arm." And so saying, he insinuated his own view of the arm into Bill's mind, allowing his magesights to enhance the view. He highlighted the Prime magesight, so that the curse glowed a rather sickly green like an overlay on the image, reaching... or trying to reach... into the healthier flesh up towards the elbow.

"Now," Pavel began, as the two of them hovered over Albus' extremity like surgeons in an operating theatre, "you see as my hands bracket the outer boundaries of the curse field? Yes?" as actions matched words and Pavel extended one hand below Albus' hand, and the other hand above the elbow.

"Yes, Professor," Bill replied, as everyone watched Pavel's hands begin their golden glow.

"Goot. Now, you bracket the sides off his arm vith your hands, keepingk your distance. Do NOT, under any circumstances, directly touch the flesh. Go... now..." Pavel instructed, as he watched Bill put his hands the same distance from the forearm, at 90 degrees angle from his own. "Goot. Now, I am going to grasp your hand, see if you can flow your own magic, your authority and determination for good, your love for the Headmaster, and your 'sternness' NOT to permit harm... see if you can flow your 'righteous indignation' through your hands on behalf of the Headmaster. You will feel the harmonics vith me, when you get it attuned rightly..."

While the spoken words made little sense, Bill's head nodded slightly as his mind, melded with Pavel's had an advantage for intuiting meaning from the words. His brow furrowed a bit as he tried to concentrate, hoping by force of will to take the authority that could cast out this curse, but to no avail. Then, he found himself getting frustrated and angry at his own failure, then beginning to believe he could not succeed and was useless here.

Pavel broke into his thoughts, using mind speak, _"No, William. Do not think of giving up. You are very close to having this. You are trying to do it by vorking **hard** , and that is all that's wrong. You cannot overcome this kind of curse by greater strength of your anger or your will. You need to relax a bit. Look at the Headmaster's face, rather than his hand and arm. Remember and recall all the times you've been together, think of how when you vere a small boy, he'd lift you onto his lap at the Burrow. Of Christmases, of your years at Hogwarts and holidays. Think, remember, FEEL how much he loves you and you him... let that build..."_

As Bill complied and Pavel assisted him in becoming relaxed and lost in the memory of the lifelong love between them... Bill's hands began also to take on a golden glow similar to Pavel's. The Professor looked on approvingly as gently he said aloud, "Now, Villiam, shift your gaze from the Headmaster's face, down to the curse. Severus," he addressed the Potioins master without looking up or away from the arm. "Do you have a Bezoar on you?"

"Always, sir," Snape replied, quickly removing it from an inner pocket of his robes.

"Goot. Please use your wand to levitate it carefully to the back of the Headmaster's hand, if you would." They watched the fibrous stone glide into place atop the shriveled flesh of the Headmaster. "Thank you, Ivan. Now, would you please prepare a Stasis Box ultimately to receive that when we finish? Thank you," he continued, as John levitated a small jewelry sized box off his father's top shelf, and added some warding charms to the protections already in place.

"Now, Villiam, you can see the outline of the curse field before us, yes?"

Bill nodded, not taking his eyes off the Headmaster's arm.

"And you can also see the fields of supernal force extending from your own hands towards the Headmaster, yes?"

Again, Bill nodded.

"Goot. Now, I vant you to extend your own force to press upon the boundaries of the curse. Try to compress it, pushing it towards the Bezoar. Do you understand? Do not move your hands physically. Just increase the pressure of your magic towards the curse, forcing it towards the stone. Can you do this?"

Bill nodded again, as Pavel watched the primal glow from Bill's hands brighten and extend further towards the aura of the curse.

"That's very good, Villiam. Now, you will push the curse field towards and into the stone, while I shall pull it. You may move your hands to get a better angle, as you will. Just do not move them closer... but rotate around the field however you need to, just keep your distance from it. Understand?"

"Yes, Professor..." Bill answered, as his concentration never wavered from the task at hand.

"Very good. Now... ve do this..." as Pavel also fell silent to focus on the task. Not only did he want to contain the curse within the Bezoar, but he wanted to allow Bill to "feel" the process, the magic involved in "manhandling" the very edges of a deadly curse, at the same time not exposing himself or anyone else to the dangers of direct contact with it. Like so many teachable moments, Pavel would have been far safer and it would have been simpler, just to do this by himself. But such opportunities rarely presented themselves. This was a very high order of stored curse with a sophisticated trigger. Any curse strong enough to defeat the best efforts of Albus, Minerva, and Severus combined... not to mention Ivan... was a rare and formidable spell indeed. Such experience could teach Bill in mere minutes, what could otherwise take years to learn. Such moments seemed well worth the trouble, to Pavel.

Pavel did, indeed, focus a "primal void", a "vacuum of magic" into the center of the Bezoar. That was not difficult. But at the same time, he held a shell of prime shielding in a 360 degree sphere around the affected area, guarding against any bit of it escaping their quarantine. He had no doubt such a failsafe was built into so clever a curse. So he watched, in a myriad of frequencies beyond that of the major curse itself, for any fractal bits or pseudopoda of gentive material to escape.

Bill was skilled, but even better, he was intense and highly focused. His work with the goblins had already taught him much, including the single minded mental discipline necessary for such work. His will was strong, his tenacity admirable, and his love for the old man was overwhelming. He was actually, without knowing it or meaning to, adding a substantial dose of his own vitality and supernal energy into his "push", in the vain attempt to revitalize the dead tissues before them.

Pavel would not distract him with correction. It would do the lad no harm. Bill would simply need some rest and nourishment when they finished, but that seemed likely for all of them, regardless.

 _Pavel mind spoke to the assembled company, "You are all welcome to enter in to the vision Villiam and I are sharing. If you do so, please simply observe, rather than try to help. That could complicate things."_

With this invitation, everyone was able to see the greenish cast of the curse being forced down Albus' forearm towards his wrist and hands, as the other edge was driven up from his fingertips towards his wrist. Slowly, but surely, the seeming mist began to enter into the Bezoar, until no green showed anywhere else. Albus hand still carried the grayish black hues of death, but there was no further undulation or interference of the curse trying to expand.

Finally, Pavel spoke again, "Very well done, Villiam. Now, let us dispose of this..." and Pavel's wand shot into his hand as ever so gently he levitated the stone from back of the Headmaster's hand, floating it into the Stasis Box John had prepared for it. Once the stone settled inside, John secured the lid on top, and sealed it up.

Bill tried very hard not to be melodramatic or make any big deal, but once the curse had been taken from his control, he'd sat back with a heavy sigh in a state of near collapse. He felt like a rag doll, suddenly exhausted. Quietly, Pavel rose from his seat, poured a cup of tea with light sugar and a touch of cream - as he'd seen Bill prepare for himself a time or two, along with a napkin and two chocolate biscuits, and serve them to Bill saying, "That vas wery vell done, Villiam. Congratulations, you haff done something very few wizards can claim. Thank you very much for your help."

"You're welcome, Professor. I've never seen anything like that before," Bill said, realizing that he didn't need that seat anymore. Others may be more useful for the moment to the Headmaster. So, he stood up and took his refreshments over to a comfortable chair nearer the fireplace, to let Severus sit and examine the arm now.

Minerva asked, "What are you planning with that Bezoar, Paul? Couldn't you have destroyed the curse without containing it?"

"We could have, yes. But it is of such rare power and quality, I thought it better to offer it to Professor Flitwick for study, and then perhaps as an artifact or training aid for advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. It is a variant of the Arvada curse, made into a focused hex with a trigger. It is exquisite work, and if anyone else among his followers is capable of casting such a thing, it were better studied by Hogwarts and the Ministry, than simply lost."

"I see. Well, what next? I presume our next order of business is to restore health and vibrancy to Albus' hand, is it not?" she carried on, in a brusque business-like tone, to mask her deep worry and concern.

"Yes, Papa!" Harry walked over, as Fawkes came to rest on his shoulder. "We've got to fix Albus!" Harry said in a bit louder tone than his normal voice, staggering just a bit as he walked. Both Professors McGonagall and Snape looked at him a bit shocked and affronted at his referring to the Headmaster as "Albus", but John spoke before either could reprimand him.

"Harry," John blurted, "is not entirely himself this morning. He means no offense, Headmaster."

Albus just smiled with great kindness, "I understand, John. But for Harry, dear friends, I may yet be suffering in my office. He and Fawkes seem to have some link at the moment, and he seems a bit... er... distracted?"

"I believe a more accurate description is probably that he is a bit... intoxicated," Pavel replied. "No, no, friends... Harry is not under chemical influence, nor anything precisely of his own doing. He is caught up in a process of transformation, a magical metamorphosis, and while he is not exactly 'out of control' by any mean at the moment, neither is he able to focus in an entirely normal manner either. He is in a transitional period we call "Awakening" at the moment, and has just returned from discovering his Watchtower. He returned screaming that Albus was in danger, begging that we go rescue him. You have been with us since then."

John said, "The problem here is that this damage is beyond my ability to heal on another. Like injuries caused by a curse or hex are often resistant to medical or healers cures for normal wizards... THIS curse... THIS damage... is even beyond my abilities to heal. It will take considerably more power than my own to regenerate this tissue."

Pavel stood thoughtfully for a moment. "Harry? What do you think? Right now, for the next few hours or next few minutes, you are in a unique moment of your life. You stand as if in the center of an iris closing after gazing upon the very heart of magic itself, the pure supernal. That is why you are a bit 'unbalanced' at the moment. You are intoxicated, inebriated, upon the pure essence of magic. That will pass. It will pass quickly. But, unless I miss my guess looking upon you, you have been selected by the Life Arcanum among others... and you may have access, for this brief time, to sufficient focused life magic to heal the Headmaster. How do you feel about this? What does your intuition tell you? Right at this moment?"

Harry looked up at his father with wide and trusting eyes. Then he looked at Fawkes. Then he smiled. "What do I feel? What do I want to do right now?"

"Yes, Harry," Pavel nodded.

"I want to fix Albus. I love Albus. Albus hurts, and I don't want him to hurt. I want him well, and whole. Please let me fix Albus, Papa. I know we can," Harry replied. His tone was simple and childlike, but not moronic.

Pavel's mind raced furiously, considering hundreds of possibilities, measuring risks, rewards, and probable outcomes. Finally, he came to a decision.

"Albus?" Pavel asked. "I'm inclined to take advantage of so unique an opportunity, and trust to Harry's heart and love for you to allow him to attempt your healing. You deserve to know, however, that he is swathed in 'wild magic' at the moment. I have no way to predict, or perhaps even to reverse, whatever outcome befalls. He is immersed in the Primal Wild right now. There is risk."

Albus reached out towards Harry with his good hand, calling him over to his side. "Harry? I absolutely trust to your love and your heart on this. If you can heal this useless hand for me, you go right ahead."

"You sure, Albus?" Harry asked. "We only want you well, and strong, and healthy... ok?"

"OK, Harry," Albus answered, "go right ahead."

While this conversation was going on, Harry had begun to glow... at first a dim wash seeming to bleach the color from him... but by the time Albus finished giving his permission, Harry was glowing a bright golden, as everyone backed away slowly, unsure of what was to transpire. But then Harry and Fawkes looked at one another, then seemed to join wingtip to hand... then each reached out to embrace Albus wingtip and hand to hand.

The golden glow emitting from Harry, then Harry and Fawkes, grew to envelope Albus as well. A Phoenix trill came forth from Fawkes, as the golden glow grew ever brighter and larger, and as the speed and frequency of the Phoenix Song increased, the golden globe containing the three of them appeared to spin at an ever increasing rate until...

Suddenly, there was a mighty crash and thundering report... as the golden globe exploded into a million rays of light... and both Harry and Fawkes slumped to the floor, senseless.

Headmaster Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards... apparently was no more. He was gone, disappeared. It appeared he had been tragically incinerated, immolated to naught more than a pile of ash that sat atop the bed he'd rested on. Quietly nested atop those ashes sat a number of magical talismans and artifacts, and... none other than the Elder Wand.

It is almost impossible to describe the mix of reactions and emotions in that room at that moment. Everyone was deeply concerned at Harry's loss of consciousness. Everyone was shocked and dismayed at the apparent demise of the Headmaster. But along with all that, came the utter astonishment of realizing they were in the presence of the Elder Wand... that reputedly could not be defeated by any other, making its wielder effectively invincible.

Pavel had immediately knelt alongside Harry, scooping him up and carrying him to a couch, probing his mind gently to determine his condition. He breathed a huge sigh of relief as he announced, "Harry will be fine. He is, of course, a bit played out. But he is fine, healthy, and... apparently... quite happy, indeed."

"Happy?" Minerva McGonagall turned to stare at them in consternation, "Does the boy realize he's just blasted he Headmaster to Kingdom Come?"

"Um, no, Minerva. That's exactly what he seems so happy about. He doesn't consider the Headmaster dead, or even harmed. In fact..." he said, as Fawkes began to stir, and trill in his own quietly happy way... "the only clear thought Harry keeps repeating about the Headmaster is that 'he'll be fine now... perfect... this is his Burning Day.' I don't understand..." Pavel wore a rare look of confusion on his face.

"His... 'Burning Day'?" Minerva repeated in a tone of confused puzzlement. Then, suddenly a look of comprehension took over her features as she turned back towards the ashes to say, "Oh... my... goodness... Could he possibly mean?..."

And just then, a stirring in the ashes drew every eye in the room, as the very floor trembled for a moment, the mound of ash grew significantly, then fell away to the sides to reveal...

A baby. A human baby, now lay covered in the ashes with magical items draped about his little naked person. The Elder Wand was now grasped in a chubby little fist, as blue twinkling eyes opened upon them all, and the newborn infant chorkled his greetings to the world.

Fawkes instantly took flight towards the baby, perching alongside him, but just far enough away not to be grabbed by a curious little hand.

"Gentlemen?" Minerva began, in an awed voice, "I believe the Headmaster has returned. Pavel, have you any nappies here?"

And no one said a word...

* * *

 _ **A/N** I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort_


	36. The Life of Bryan

**The Life of Bryan**

Everyone in Pavel's study just stared, open mouthed, at the chorkling blue-eyed newborn that sat among the ashes on Dumbledore's hospital bed.

Pavel, still attending primarily to Harry after his exhausted collapse, took a moment to consider what steps to take next. Even the briefest sweep over the mind of the baby, showed that this was, indeed, Albus Dumbledore in newborn state. It would seem the combination of Fawkes' and Harry's love and power for Albus, when primordially boosted by the Primal Wild magic to which Harry had temporary access, had forced Albus to regenerate in the manner of a Phoenix.

A myriad of questions had yet to be asked and answered, but Minerva had appropriately focused on the simple matter at hand... Albus' immediate needs.

"Oxsana?" Pavel began, "I know your mother has been retired for quite a while, but do you think she would be willing to lend us her aid for a bit? She is a most competent nurse and caretaker, and I'd like to keep this matter in the family until we know more. I am going to take Harry to nap for a bit. If you could see if she would join us, bringing anything she thinks useful for a newborn, we'll work out a plan."

"Of course, Papa Pavel. I know she'll be glad to help. I'll go get her, and we'll be right back."

"Good, good. Thank her for me," he nodded, lifting Harry in his arms to carry him up to his room. "I'll be back down shortly. Minerva, I presume you will act as Headmistress for the interim? We shall have to see about timelines as events unfold."

"Yes, Paul. I'm sure we can wait a bit before worrying about making any notifications," McGonagall replied.

In the meantime, Minerva took it upon herself to transform the hospital bed into a diaper changing table, the bedlinens into diapers and a onesie, along with some receiving blankets. With surprising speed and skill she washed and dressed the Headmaster, banishing any trace of ash or debris, chattering away at him cheerfully, keeping him entertained through his ablutions.

Mere moments later, Sonja Brezynski arrived with her daughter, carpet bag in hand, saying, "I understand my services are needed?" So saying, she set her belongings down and reached out for the cooing infant with a warm smile.

Minerva lifted the baby, and cradled him securely in Sonja's arms, watching him focus on her dangling earrings with a not yet coordinated reach.

"Ah, Little One," Sonja chuckled, "those are not your playthings! I shall have to child proof myself before we go much further. Let us go rock for a while, and see if you will eat while I get better situated." Looking up to address Minerva, she asked, "does he have a room here?"

Minerva thought this through a moment, and said, "follow me." She then led the nursemaid to one of the guest rooms, and transfigured his bed and bedding into a crib, adding a playpen and comfortable rocking chair to the room's ensemble. The house was nothing if not neat, and there was nothing out of place or strewn about when they entered. Minerva adjusted the draperies to allow muted daylight to cheer the room without glare, and said, "I'm not sure what the arrangements will be, but for the moment this should be fine. We'll have to discuss arrangements in a little while, but for now, please make yourself at home."

"This will be fine," Sonja answered. "We shall see if he will eat and nap soon. He certainly seems happy and healthy," she added, as she bounced him gently in her arms, seeing him giggle in return. "He is strong, sitting up already and holding his head steady. I can feel the life in him. He's not like a newborn, at least not a muggle newborn."

"Um, yes..." Minerva began. "Things will likely be a bit different... perhaps even VERY different... for him. I suspect he may mature very quickly, as this was more a 'regeneration', than a 'birth'."

Leaving the door open so they could hear if they were called or needed, McGonagall sat in a comfortable armchair while Sonja sat to rock and feed the baby. The Professor explained what had happened as best she could understand it herself. She had to marvel at the nurse's capacity to absorb surprising circumstances as the woman just rocked humming gently to the child, without turning a hair at the story.

"I see," was her only response. "Well, we shall see how long this Little One has need of my services. He may well outgrow me quickly. But I shall be happy to help in any way I can for as long as I can. For now, let us see if he will settle to sleep some. His growth will require much energy, I suspect."

Minerva took her cue and exited the room quietly, leaving the two of them cuddled as Sonja rocked.

Pavel lifted the semi-conscious Harry from the sofa in the Study, holding him close, saying they were going to Harry's room where he would nap for a bit and recover his strength. If anyone needed him, just to find him there. Gently, he lay the boy down atop his covers, pulled off his boots, and tucked him up snug with a down comforter, before pulling a chair up alongside the bed to sit and keep watch. Harry just murmured a bit, before rolling on his side, winding even more securely into the coverlet.

Pavel had been monitoring Harry's mental state since he appeared so suddenly in the kitchen, and for the first time Harry's frenetic energy seemed slowly to be abating. He'd nearly been in a frenzy before they secured Albus from Hogwarts, and his conjunction with Fawkes had made it difficult to keep Harry's identity clear and intact. All that seemed gone now, and the boy seemed to be slipping into something like natural sleep. Truth be told, the old man was grateful for that. Intimate encounters with the Primal Wild, supernal cataclysms at the level of power Harry, Fawkes, and Albus had just experienced, vastly exceeded what Pavel typically thought of as "reasonable, typical, or safe". In short, Pavel did not approve of them in the least bit, not that there was a darned thing he could have done about it. Life with exceedingly powerful and talented youth, could be tough indeed on an authoritarian like Pavel Konstantyn. He let his eyes drift closed as peacefully he leaned back in his chair.

* * *

At about 10 a.m. - all this excitement having taken place before 8:30, actually - Pavel stirred to wakefulness as he sensed Dobby standing alongside him with respectful attention.

"Yes, little friend," Pavel smiled and stretched as he spoke in low tones to the little elf. "Vot iss it?" Silently, without anxiety, he checked the status of Harry and his mind, finding him napping in a very normal and typical sleep.

Keeping his own voice quite low, not to waken Harry, Dobby said, "So sorry to disturb Master, but young Master Percy has come, saying you had an appointment with him, so I came to check. Do you want him to come back later? I don't think he knows of anything that's happened here this morning," Dobby finished, looking anxiously over at Harry, almost reaching out for his hand, lines of concern creasing his usually exuberant face.

"He's fine, Dobby. Really," Pavel comforted. "He's exhausted at the moment. But a wondrous thing has happened to him, and he's been instrumental in rescuing Headmaster Dumbledore from a very serious injury. He should be fine when he catches up on some sleep. In fact..." Pavel rose from his seat with a great feline stretch, "I would be grateful if you would just sit here with him for a while keeping an eye on him, while I go downstairs and speak with our young Mr. Weasley. Please summon me if he wakens or for any other need, all right?" Pavel patted the little elf's shoulder kindly. "He is just fine, and should be back with us after he's gotten some rest."

"Dobby will watch over him, Master," Dobby assured, gently taking Harry's hand before climbing into the chair just vacated.

"Thank you, Dobby," Pavel smiled, pausing as he looked in at the two of them before closing the bedroom door softly.

After knocking gently on Bryan's door to be assured that all was well with Sonja and the baby, Pavel walked on downstairs to get a cup of coffee and greet Percy Weasley.

Percy rose respectfully as Pavel descended the staircase. "Good morning, Professor," he bowed slightly greeting the older man.

"Good morning, Percy," Pavel smiled with a nod and wave. "Care to join me in a cup of tea or coffee? Have you had breakfast?" he asked, with a welcoming gesture that Percy should walk with him to the kitchen. He noted that young Weasley was dressed in business/professional robes, apparently considering a formal appointment with him to call for better than casual attire.

"Yes, I have, sir. But I'd be glad to share a of a cup of tea."

"Fine, fine. Help yourself," Pavel indicated a row of canisters on the counter top with a vast array of blends. A wave of his hand brought a teapot filled with scalding water onto the counter before them, as he poured a cup of rich coffee into his own mug, steaming with a heady aroma. He leaned back against the counter as he watched Percy carefully select his tea leaves, measure the right amount into the pot, then carefully clean his utensils being assured there was no sign of his preparations. Pavel noticed Percy's punctilious attention to detail and tidiness.

"Why don't we just sit down here in the kitchen to chat? Or would you prefer to repair to my study?" Pavel asked.

"No, no. Here would be fine, sir," Percy answered quickly, seeming to relax a bit, granting his shoulders some relief from their nearly military rectitude. He pulled a mug from a cabinet, and carried the teapot, strainer, saucer, and spoon, to the table with him, as he sat down in the chair indicated.

Pavel sat next to him and said, "This is just a friendly chat, Mr. Weasley. I sense some anxiety on your part, and I want to assure you that there is absolutely nothing wrong. I just wanted to take some time to speak with you, get a feeling for what your plans may be for the future, and perhaps even offer a proposal you might like. I also, deeply, want to thank you along with your whole family, for being such wonderful friends to Harry since you've known him. Is anything troubling you?"

"No, sir, not at all," Percy replied, pouring and straining his tea. "I guess I feel just a bit awkward, truthfully," he smiled. "Ron and Harry are brilliant friends. And Fred and George are about as fond of Harry as they could be. I know they all consider me a stuffed shirt and a bit of a pompous... well... um, let's just say they don't always appreciate the prefect's eye I must keep on them as Gryffindors. I know I'm a bit of a thorn in their side, and I hope Harry doesn't take it amiss. Our family loves Harry like one of our own, and I'm very glad you've asked us here this week so Mother and Father can get to know you a bit better," he finished, setting his strainer and spoon neatly in their saucer as he leaned back in his chair to take a sip of tea.

"I see," Pavel nodded, as he carefully took measure of this young man. Overall, he liked what he saw, and what he'd observed thus far. In class, Percy was diligent, attentive, comprehensive and methodical. He studied hard and had excellent recall. His reasoning skills were well developed, and if he had an area for improvement... it was his imagination and creativity. He could recite the history and progress of dozens of battles over the centuries without flaw, but found it hard to suggest a better strategy if challenged to think on his feet.

"Well," Pavel continued, "I'm delighted that you could all make this time for us to get together. Everything with Harry's situation has moved along so quickly, I wonder if you have any questions or concerns you'd like to air?"

"About, Harry, sir? About your guardianship?" Percy asked thoughtfully.

Pavel's lips compressed as he considered the question, "Well, yes... there's that. But not necessarily confined to that, no. Feel free to ask anything you are curious about. I may not answer everything, but you're quite welcome to ask." Pavel made an encouraging nod and doffed his mug in a clear gesture to go on with his thoughts.

"Well," Percy began thoughtfully, "I've really been a bit confused about things. As I said, I try to look out for both Ron and Harry as my younger brothers," he shook his head slightly as he took a sip of tea, muttering, "that can be a bit of a challenge considering Fred and George. But anyway," Percy continued a bit more energetically, "when you first arrived, I was surprised, and more than a little concerned with how quickly you and Harry seemed to get together. He's been through a lot, some very dangerous people have it in for him, and... well... sir, to be perfectly frank, erm..." Percy's voice faded to unintelligible mutter...

"I," Pavel continued cheerfully, "... am a foreigner. Who knows where I am from or what my designs might be, eh?"

"Well, not to put to fine a point on that, sir. But yes. Exactly. Harry is very gifted as a wizard, and has both powerful friends and powerful adversaries. First there was you, then Master John... even though it was clear that Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall knew you from long ago... Well, I just couldn't be sure everything was on the up and up. Then, when I heard about your taking Harry on as apprentice, I was even more concerned. Why would you do that? I mean, you could gain control of his power. He comes from a powerful and respected wizarding family. He even has considerable wealth I believe. I just wasn't sure of your motives, or that you were acting solely in his best interests." Percy ploughed on through this conversation, becoming more uncomfortable by the minute.

" _What in the world am I thinking, saying all this?"_ he chided himself. Still... "in for a penny, in for a pound" as they say. He'd finish saying his piece, and hope he had not offended his host and professor.

"Anyway, sir, I was very much looking forward to this visit, as I wanted to understand more about you, your home and family, and your relationship with Harry."

Pavel interrupted, chuckling gently, "And have we calmed your concerns and set your mind at ease by now?"

Percy, too, had to chuckle as he responded. "Yes, sir. I must admit. None of my concerns, theories, or hypotheses seem to make the least bit of sense. Clearly, the Potter legacy doesn't seem substantial enough to be a motive, considering your obvious holdings. Your command of magic, I suspect, vastly outstrips even what we've been able to observe of it thus far. The only concern I'd not yet put away completely was some sort of political machinations regarding Harry and the Ministry's involvement with him and his history with You-Know-Who. Harry is still a very powerful icon of hope and freedom to much of our wizarding world, and from some things I've heard you have something going on with the Ministry about such matters."

"I see," Pavel nodded thoughtfully. "Have you interest in Ministry politics? And what, if you don't mind my asking, have you heard? And how have you heard it?" He was careful to keep his tone friendly and casual, not wanting to push Percy into a defensive posture. "I'm just curious, and it bears a bit on the reason for this meeting. Don't say more than you are comfortable saying."

"Well, Professor, as to politics, yes, I have a strong interest. Father works for the Ministry as you know, and I think I would like to as well. I'm not sure in what capacity as yet, but I've worked hard to keep my grades and deportment, and hopefully potential recommendations, such that I will qualify for some Ministry position upon graduation. I don't know that I could ever eventually run for office, I'm not much of a popularity vote-getter, but I like being part of a system and process that keeps things safe and orderly for both muggles and magical citizens.

"As to what I've heard and how... Well, mainly, I just listen. A lot. Adults don't tend to notice me as long as I stand in a background looking like I'm doing something tedious, like filing or studying. It's kind of the same thing I do as Prefect. I stand still, seeming to pay attention to something else, and listen to what students are saying or planning around me. When I hear about some caper or plot that would be unsafe or get someone in serious trouble, I don't turn around right then and confront them. I'll just wait to show up at the right place at the wrong time, 'accidentally' foiling the gig. I don't want Gryffindors losing house points, and it just enhances my reputation as being 'everywhere at once' when it happens."

"Zo, then..." Pavel laughed gently as he sipped his tea and passed a recently materialized plate of pastries towards Percy, "you are telling me, you eavesdrop."

"Yes, sir. I do." Percy met his gaze without blush or falter, taking a cheese danish. "Fred and George have some useful aides in this endeavor, and I've liberated one or two with a bit of extortion here and there. They don't grouse on me. They daren't."

"Well then, what intelligence have you managed to glean in your investigations about me, or Ivan, and our association with your Ministry of Magic?"

Percy's face took on a puzzled expression. "Not too much, really. Just that it seems that you, Master John, and Miss Oxsana are now involved with the Ministry in some way, especially with the Aurors and Wizengemot, somehow. People just aren't talking about it all that much. There's just a bit of buzz here and there. Apparently, sir," Percy leaned back in his chair as he laughed quietly, "you seem to make some adults nearly as nervous as students."

"Oh?" Pavel leaned back as well, subtly mirroring Percy's postures. "Do you find me fearsome? Some students do, I know. I've never felt you to be very anxious. At least not past the first week or so of class."

"No, sir," Percy smiled. "I don't find you fearsome, at least not in the sense you mean. Not as a professor, or in your authority at Hogwarts. You have clear rules and boundaries, and you are consistent in enforcement and consequences. You are..." Percy took a moment hunting for the right word... "orderly. One can predict what you will approve or disapprove, and the likely results of one's actions. I despise chaos, disorder, randomness. Such things make me uncomfortable. My twin brothers drive me mad. What they find amusing I usually find annoying, and that just eggs them on."

"And yet, Percy, I sense you still have some misgivings about me. That's fine, of course. I'm not the least bit offended. But if there's something you want to know that would set your mind more at ease, this is an opportunity away from school, from family, from any onlookers at all, where you and I can converse with absolute privacy," Pavel invited.

"Well, Professor, since you open the door so wide, I must say that I'm yet confused as to your motives. It's clear, coming here, that you have no need to enhance your status or political strength by alliance with Harry Potter. You're more than just a 'local official' here, aren't you? And Harry has changed in just the short time he's been here. He's quite a bit more serious, notwithstanding his little stunt yesterday. There's something going on here, something in your relationship with Harry, that's bigger than any scenarios or schema I had hypothesized. No?

"For example," Percy set his mug down with an assertive thump, leaning forward onto the table with a determined expression, "I suspect I'd be more correct to address you as 'Milord' rather than simply 'Sir' or 'Professor', would I not? You are not simply a local Squire hereabouts, are you?"

"Percy, my dear young man, you are quite right and you exceed all my expectations and hopes regarding your understanding of politics and diplomacy. Let us see if I can allay your concerns as to my motives, and offer you an opportunity to serve your Ministry of Magic in a manner that pleases you.

"First, as to who and what I am... Your instincts and observations are quite right. In this part of the world, I hold considerable authority. We, in Eastern Europe, yet hold a far more feudal structure of magical governance, due to historical issues of religion, centralized government and military history, along with deep roots of diverse magical forms and dark magical practices still very much at large. I, as head of House Konstantyn, am what you would call a Peer. I am a ReichHerzog, head of this demesne, a feudal territory with magical boundaries separate from other domains ruled by other heads of houses. I have no designs or ill intentions, and offer nothing but alliance and assistance to the United Kingdom. I have agreed to lend assistance to your Ministry of Magic by Treaty, drafted between your Minister of Magic and this domain's head of state security, endorsed by the Queen. Therefore, rest assured, my relationship with Harry by no means is in aid of any other political end. Rather the opposite. A great deal of my political capital is currently dedicated to assuring Harry's ongoing safety and security. Is all this clear?" Pavel paused, letting Percy process all this information.

"Good," Pavel continued. "You and I share a preference for the 'decent and orderly'. I have noted that you are observant, careful, diligent, and pay considerable attention to detail. You have mentioned a desire to work towards a ministerial career. My current arrangement with the Ministry would benefit from the services of an intern, a legal clerk, to do research and liaison between the Aurors, other elements of enforcement, and the courts of the Ministry or wizengemot. If you were interested in such a position, Professor McGonagall could assign it as your scholastic task while you prepare for your N.E.W.T.s. Formally, you would serve as a clerk to Justice Amelia Bones, working on the Project that is the subject of our Treaty."

"That sounds most interesting, sir," Percy's eyes sparkled with animation. "May I ask the nature of this Project?"

"You may," Pavel nodded, sipping more tea. "We are engaged in investigation of the Death Eaters, past and present, and their potential influence in society and government. It goes without saying that we are engaged in this investigation with great discretion and diplomacy. Events over the past few years, even some events of this year, indicate that the shadow of the so-called Dark Lord still haunts a number of places and people. These matters have become a concern both in Great Britian as well as here. Death Eaters were judicially dealt with 10 years ago at the end of the Wizarding War there, but it seems that a number of issues may have slipped through the cracks without adequate resolution. Justice Bones, the Aurors, and I intend to make a methodical examination of all matters Death Eater, and gain some assurance that their corruption has been properly eliminated from the halls of government."

"I see," Percy sat back, pondering thoughtfully. "Pardon my asking, but it would seem this could be a more than somewhat risky endeavor, could it not? I mean, last year Professor Quirrel brought You-Know-Who all the way into Hogwarts, in some way under that turban of his. Ginny was haunted by Riddle's Diary, being controlled to some extent by some ghostly extension of You-Know-Who... and that Diary was planted on her intentionally. Whether Death Eaters, as such, are still around or not, clearly You-Know-Who has some sort of minions still functioning. Could this Project be potentially dangerous?"

"Yes," Pavel nodded matter-of-factly. "Yes, indeed it could. Does that dissuade you or dampen your interest?" he chuckled a moment, considering... "Or perhaps, does it make the prospect more attractive to you?"

Percy gave an almost embarrassed smile as he looked deeply into his tea mug, "Neither, really, Professor. I just like to understand what I may be getting into. I don't jump at the chance to do risky things, like Bill or the Twins, but I won't back away from danger if it's important. I can hold my own pretty well in Dueling Club, but I'm not yet up to a standard to take on a Death Eater, I'm afraid."

"Well said, Mr. Weasley!" Pavel praised. "I am a great proponent of Risk Assessment which is precisely what you are doing. Is there some danger to investigating supporters or former supporters of Voldemort? There certainly could be. Ivan and Oxsana are working with the Law Enforcement Division directly, I am working with the courts. You ought never be working alone, or in any risky location. For the most part, you should be working in Justice Bones' Chambers, or an adjoining office we will secure for you, or at Hogwarts. Beyond that, you would have armor and communications, providing considerable protection and backup. Do I take it then, that given these conditions, you are interested in the position?"

"Absolutely!" Percy nodded energetically. "I despise Voldemort..." he dropped his voice and looked over his shoulder, as if using profanity near his parents, "along with his mindless lackeys and everything they stand for. They tried to kill Harry years ago when they killed his parents, and I don't doubt they'd do it again if they could. If this is working with you and the Ministry to overturn darkness, I certainly want in."

"Very well, then," Pavel set down his mug decisively. "Let us put on our coats and go outside for a stroll. I will explain what we are doing and what we'll need you to do more fully, and I'll ask you to swear formally by your magic, that you will keep all this confidential, only disclosing to appropriate people as instructed, when necessary."

"That will be fine, sir."

Pavel took a moment to check in with Sonja and Bryan, as he blinked to and from his bedroom to don his overcoat and cloak. Finding all well, Pavel led the way out to walk the cobbled path from the kitchen's Mudroom down towards the Mews. Together, he and Percy passed the rest of a fascinating hour.

* * *

 **AN:** _I know it's been way too long since I'd posted a chapter. I'll not make excuses but to say other things have intervened. I've been getting the juices flowing again, and I hope to get more story up much more regularly soon. Please review when you can. Your notes and encouragement are tremendously appreciated! Grace to you, Gentle Readers! - Mort_


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